


City of Starlight

by the__magpie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Child Abuse, Community: deancasbigbang, DCBB 2016, Dean/Cas Big Bang Challenge 2016, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, I love them but they're IDIOTS, M/M, Mary Winchester Lives, Parental Jody Mills, Physical Abuse, Secret Identity, Smart Dean, Two Person Love Triangle, Violence, except that they're both really dumb like honestly so dumb, teenage superheroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-21 17:56:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 44,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8255081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the__magpie/pseuds/the__magpie
Summary: By day, Castiel is a normal high school student, albeit a quiet one who avoids talking about his family if possible. But by night, he flies around the city of Lebanon, protecting those who cannot protect themselves. When he meets a boy with abilities like his, the two team up, only to find themselves dragged into the middle of a conflict between two warring crime lords. Amidst surviving high school, running from his past, and fighting criminals, Castiel must try to understand and trust in his partnership with this strange boy whose face he never sees.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited to finally be sharing this with everyone! It feels like I've been working on this fic for forever and I'm so glad it finally gets to meet the world!
> 
> A huge thank you to my brilliant and talented artist, [gabester-sketch](http://gabester-sketch.tumblr.com/), whose art is unbelievably gorgeous! Another thank you for the beta-ing help from [munchin-munchkin](http://munchin-munchkin.tumblr.com/)! And of course thank you to everyone who has supported me and helped me along on this process. I honestly couldn't have done it without you.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the fic!!
> 
> [Note: Lebanon, Kansas is a real town, but for the purposes of this fic I turned it into a big city. In reality, it has a population of, like, 218.]
> 
>  
> 
> [[art masterpost]](http://the-art-of-fangirling.tumblr.com/post/151624394279/dcbb-2016-art-masterpostcity-of-starlight-story)

The unfamiliar house felt cramped and stuffy. Everyone else was already asleep but Castiel hadn’t moved from where only thirty minutes ago, Jody led him into his new room, sat him down, and handed him the backpack of everything he owned in the world.

He was still trying to wrap his mind about how he got here. Only yesterday he had been sleeping in a cardboard box in an alleyway behind a Walgreens, but now he had a room of his own – albeit a small one – and a bed, closet, dresser, and a tiny window that cast a rectangle of moonlight on the carpeted floor. Despite all of this, he didn’t feel safe. Staying in one place, even with people who looked after him and cared about his wellbeing, meant he was easier to find.

He stood up and reached into his backpack to unearth a black hoodie that he put on over his t-shirt and pulled the hood low over his eyes. Over his nose and mouth, he secured a dark blue strip of cloth that had once been a necktie. Then he paused for a moment to listen.

All down the hallway, he could hear the slow, steady breathing of the kids he had met briefly when Jody showed him around the house. In the room next door, Charlie rolled over in her sleep, rustling her cotton sheets. Only Ash was still awake, tapping away at his computer and listening to something loud and metal-y from underneath noise-cancelling headphones.

Staying as quiet as he could, Castiel climbed onto the dresser and unlatched the window. It creaked loudly when he pushed it, making him stop and listen. Nobody in the house stirred. Cautiously, he pushed it open the rest of the way. The window was tiny, barely large enough to fit his shoulders through, but with enough wiggling he was able to squeeze his body through the frame until he lay on his back on the outcrop of roof underneath the window. The September sky was cloudless, with stars tossed across it like handfuls of sand. For a few moments, he didn’t move, watching the lights of an airplane trace its way across the darkness. Then he pushed himself to his feet.

He was a little disoriented, not having been to this part of the city before. It was the safer side of town and he had spent most of his time in the rougher, darker corners. From his vantage point on the rooftop, he could see the golden arches of a familiar McDonald’s from which he could find his way to his usual haunts. Bending his knees, he launched himself off the roof and into the sky.

He shot straight upward effortlessly, the cool air stinging against his exposed skin and drawing tears to the corners of his eyes. High above the house, he stopped to hover and look over suburbia sprawling out beneath him. Streetlamps and porch lights twinkled softly back at him like a tiny replication of the sky above. Castiel pointed himself in the direction of the McDonald’s and flew on.

The sensible part of his brain knew that he should be in bed now. Jody had told him that he’d start as his new school in the morning and luckily for him, the school year had only started a week before. But after two months of sleeping on the streets with little in the way of shelter, having a roof and four walls around him felt too confining. This was where he belonged: flying through the night with no one around him but the stars.

Of course he was grateful to Jody. When she caught him stuffing packets of roasted peanuts into his pockets at a Gas-N-Sip, she hadn’t arrested him as he would expect from a police officer, but insteadwelcomed him into her house without asking many uncomfortable questions about his family or why he was living on the streets. According to Charlie, that was what Jody did; she took in wayward kids with nowhere else to go and offered them a new home. It was more than anything Castiel could have dared to ask for, but it all felt like a little too much. He wasn’t sure he deserved this much care and kindness from a virtual stranger.

The rushing air stung his eyes and he squinted, the lights ahead of him blurring. He drew a breath deep into his lungs and let it out slowly, trying to push all thoughts of worries out along with it.

When he reached the McDonald’s on the edge of downtown, he floated downward to perch on one of its glowing arches. From here, he could see the streets branching out in every direction and buildings towering out of the ground, lit up against the black sky.

Castiel closed his eyes, listening. It took him a few moments to tune out the sounds of traffic and the normal bustle of a Sunday night in Lebanon, Kansas, but it wasn’t long before his sensitive ears picked up on something else. Somewhere not far from him, there was a child crying and pleading and the sounds of labored breathing. Castiel shot upward and flew toward the sound.

A few blocks away, on a side street with no one else around, a light blue Prius had swerved off the road, flipped upside down, and wrapped itself around the corner of a building. A bright lick of flame flickered on the pavement beside the wreck, and from inside the car Castiel could hear sobbing.

Securing his hood low over his eyes, Castiel swooped down and crouched next to the upside-down car. In the front seat was a young woman, strapped in place by her seatbelt. Her eyes were closed, unconscious, and blood flowed freely from a cut on her forehead. Castiel looked for the source of the crying and spotted a boy, no more than three years old, hanging from his car seat and wailing.

Castiel looked around. The fire was growing every second and if it spread much farther, there wouldn’t be anything left to save. He moved to the passenger side and used a brick that had fallen from the building in the collision to smash the window in. The woman stirred at the sound but didn’t wake.

Crawling on his hands and knees, Castiel entered the car and wiggled himself into the back seat. The child was still crying, his face red from being upside down for so long. Grunting, Castiel tried to maneuver himself into a position where he could unbuckle the boy’s seatbelt and catch him when he fell, but that meant placing his body directly underneath the car seat. How much time did he have before the fire reached the gas tank? He reached up to unbuckle the seatbelt and the boy fell right onto his body, knocking the wind out of him.

“Mom!” the boy wailed, straight into Castiel’s ear now.

“She’s…going to be…fine,” Castiel wheezed, finding it difficult to breathe with the boy’s weight pressing down on his chest. “Just need to…get you out of here.”

He tried to push himself back the way he had come but it wasn’t easy going backwards and holding a wriggling, sobbing three-year-old. A spark popped outside the car and landed on the ground and Castiel flinched.

Then someone new crouched next to the passenger side window. Castiel couldn’t make out the face, but an urgent voice said, “Hand him to me, quick.”

Without pausing to question it, Castiel lifted the child by his armpits and pushed him toward the outstretched arms. The child started wailing again but the new person spoke to him and Castiel heard small feet running away. Then, before Castiel could start wiggling himself toward the woman in the front seat, somebody dove through the window and blocked him.

“What are you doing?” Castiel demanded. He couldn’t see the other person’s face because it was covered with what looked like half a black ski mask, but it seemed to be a boy around the same age as Castiel.

“Helping!” the other boy grunted, crawling toward the woman.

“You’re going to get us all stuck in here,” Castiel hissed, his body wedged between the passenger seat and the other boy.

“Get closer to me!”

“This car is going to explode any minute – we have to get _out!_ ” Castiel shouted. Deaf to Castiel’s protests, the boy grabbed him with one arm and dragged the both of them closer to the unconscious woman, who he seized around the waist. Castiel found his face smashed into the boy’s chest; he could smell the sticky sweat clinging to his black sweatshirt and feel his bounding heartbeat. For a split second, Castiel wondered if this boy was intentionally trying to kill them all. Then everything around them exploded.

Castiel closed his eyes tightly but he didn’t feel any pain. Instead, he saw a bright white glow through his eyelids. The scream of twisting metal seemed distant. He didn’t move, sure that he was dead. Then the pressure of arms around him released and he opened his eyes.

All around them, burning remains of the car were scattered across the street, but he, the boy, and the woman were untouched. She was still buckled into her burning car seat, but the other boy unbuckled her carefully and laid her down on the pavement. Shakily, Castiel got to his feet.

“Mom!” the little boy shouted, running toward them and crouching beside his mother.

“She’ll be fine,” the boy in the ski mask said.

“How did we survive that?” Castiel demanded.

“Why were you crawling into a burning car without any plan of getting out?” the boy shot back without looking at him.

Ignoring him, Castiel said, “You’re a Gifted.”

The boy hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Force fields.”

Castiel felt his heart leap. “I am too!”

The boy looked at him with new interest, his green eyes flickering in the light of the burning car. “You are? Well that still wasn’t very smart, crawling in there without a way of protecting yourself.”

Castiel’s excitement was replaced by annoyance and he crossed his arms. “It wasn’t very smart of you, coming in there without telling me what you were doing.”

“You’re welcome for saving your life.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have needed saving if you hadn’t showed up!”

The boy looked like he was about to retort, but behind him the woman groaned and stirred. Castiel pushed past him to kneel by her side.

“She needs medical attention. I’ll take her to the Memorial Hospital. Make sure her son gets there too.” He bent down to lift the woman up and wrap her arms around his neck.

“How’re you going to—” the boy started, but Castiel bent his knees and shot upward before he could finish. He hovered a few feet overhead for a moment, relishing the awe on the boy’s face, before taking off in the direction of the hospital.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel woke the next morning to the sound of pounding on his door. His eyes cracked open.

“You better be awake and getting dressed, Cas, ‘cause we’re leaving in ten minutes!” Charlie’s voice came through the door.

Castiel groaned and closed his eyes for a brief moment. He must have slept through his alarm. It had been nearly three in the morning by the time he crawled back through his bedroom window and now he was feeling the consequences.

“I’m up,” he called to Charlie, dragging himself from his warm sheets. He stuffed his blue tie into his dresser drawer from where he had dropped it last night, then threw on the first pair of pants and shirt he grabbed. Three minutes later, he stumbled through his door to find Charlie waiting. She shoved a slice of toast and a glass of orange juice into his hands.

“Bus comes in five. Be ready, you don’t want to miss your first day of school!”

Five minutes later, Castiel boarded a bus along with Charlie, Bela, Kevin, Ash, and Garth, the other kids from Jody’s Home for Wayward Kids, squashed into a seat between Kevin and Garth. At the school, a low-roofed brick building that looked like it was ten years overdue for a remodel, Charlie took him to the main office to get his schedule. She cheered when she saw that they had two classes together, including their first period. They tracked down his new locker but Castiel didn’t have anything to put in it.

“You’re going to like Mr. Shurley,” Charlie said. Castiel kept drifting in and out of focus of her chattering. “He’s the best English teacher ever and there are really cool people in that class, like – oh, Dean!”

She waved furiously to a boy with sandy hair hurrying past. He barely paused to acknowledge her before running down the hallway, his backpack unzipped and his unbuttoned flannel flapping behind him.

“That’s Dean Winchester. His mom is a friend of Jody’s so he knows a lot of the kids at the Home. He’s in Shurley’s class with us. Don’t know why he’s going that way, though, our class is the other way.”

Castiel blinked slowly, his sleep-deprived mind trying to keep up with whatever she was saying.

“Anyways, we gotta get going, class’ll be starting soon. Come on!” She led Castiel in the opposite direction that Dean had gone running.

They took their seats near the back of the classroom. Charlie unpacked a notebook and a battered library copy of _Slaughterhouse Five_ from her backpack, and Castiel saw that everyone else was doing the same. It seemed he was already behind.

Two seconds before the bell rang to start class, Dean Winchester slid into the empty seat next to Charlie, out of breath. He dropped his head onto the desk and let out a long groan.

“Why the long face, Winchester?” Charlie asked.

“Mr. Campbell is busting my ass,” Dean muttered. “I asked for an extension on my paper but he said it wouldn’t be fair to the other students. As if he cares about fair. I swear, that guy has it out for me.”

Charlie patted his shoulder. “You should’ve come over last night when Kevin and I were working on it.”

“I was busy,” Dean said. He lifted his face from the table and seemed to spot Castiel for the first time. “Oh. Hi.”

“Dean, meet Cas.”

“Castiel,” he corrected, reaching across Charlie to offer Dean his hand.

“You’re the new kid at Jody’s place?”

“Yes.”

“How’re you liking it? Charlie hasn’t bullied you too much yet?”

Charlie shoved Dean’s shoulder playfully just as the teacher entered the room. “No roughhousing please, Charlie.”

Mr. Shurley was a short man with a beard in desperate need of trimming and a rumbled button up, but all the students sat up attentively at his entrance. He opened his own copy of _Slaughterhouse Five_ and cleared his throat. “Right. Kurt Vonnegut.”

Castiel dozed his way through the lesson. He knew he would probably regret it later when he was even more lost than before, but now he couldn’t think about anything but closing his eyes. Mr. Shurley had a soft, somewhat nervous sounding voice that lulled him into deeper drowsiness.

He was startled awake by the sound of people moving and putting away notebooks. Class had flown by already. Charlie grabbed his arm and dragged him to the front of the classroom where Mr. Shurley was taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes.

“Hey Chuck, this is Cas. The new student.”

Mr. Shurley looked at Castiel as if seeing him for the first time. “Oh, that’s right. New student. It’s Castiel Milton, isn’t it?”

Castiel hesitated at the fake last name he had given Jody before he remembered himself and nodded.

“Welcome to Lebanon High School,” Mr. Shurley said. “Uh…here.” He held out a book to Castiel. “We’re reading _Slaughterhouse Five_ , so you can catch up when you get the chance. Ask Charlie to help you out.”

Castiel thanked him and followed Charlie out of the classroom. She brought him to his next class – Physics – and waved goodbye. Inside the classroom, Castiel slunk to an empty seat in the back and didn’t meet any of the curious looks directed his way.

The rest of the day passed in a similar fashion. He tried not to draw attention to himself but in a few classes the teachers sought him out to welcome him and give him a pile of catch up work. At lunch, Castiel lingered in the doorway of the cafeteria for a few moments, wondering if he should find somewhere else to sit by himself. Then he spotted Garth, Kevin, and Ash at one of the tables and hesitantly made his way toward them. He felt a grudging gratification when they noticed him and waved him over. Dean was sitting there also, along with another boy with scruffy brown hair.

“Castiel, meet Dean and Sam Winchester,” Garth introduced them.

“He’s in my English,” Dean said, nodding to Castiel. “How’re your other classes?”

Castiel shrugged. “Fine.”

Dean waited for a moment as if expecting more, but when Castiel didn’t offer anything he turned back to his conversation with Kevin. The group’s attention moved away from Castiel, who was perfectly happy listening to the other boys and eating his lunch.

After school, Charlie dropped into the seat next to him on the bus and attempted to engage him in conversation. Castiel gave only short, noncommittal answers and she eventually gave up. Back at the Home, Castiel said hello to Jody and escaped up the stairs to his room before she could question him about his day. He dumped his backpack on the floor and fell onto his bed.

“Hey, Cas!”

He sat bolt upright, startled, to see Charlie standing in his doorway with Bela slouching behind her, looking bored. Without giving him a chance to say anything, Charlie stepped into his room and leaned against his bedpost. “We think you’ve done enough hiding alone in your room.”

“I have?”

“Look, we’re a family here at the Home and I’m going to be your friend if I have to bully you into it. That’s what I did with Bela.”

“For the record, it didn’t work on me,” Bela cut in, sounding mildly annoyed.

“Aw, you know you love me,” Charlie grinned at her. Turning back to Cas, she said, “So we want to get to know you. Tell us about your family.”

“My…family?” Castiel felt his insides grow cold and he quickly looked down before they could see the look on his face. “It doesn’t matter. They’re not around anymore.”

“That’s okay,” Charlie said gently. “We’ve all lost people. My parents died in a car accident. Kevin’s mom was kidnapped. Ash and Garth don’t have families that they can remember. Even Jody’s husband and son were killed.”

“My family isn’t dead.”

“Ohh,” Charlie said understandingly. “You’re a runaway, then.”

“I don’t really want to talk about this,” Castiel murmured.

Charlie was quiet for a few moments and he hoped that she would get the hint and go away. Then she said, “That’s fine. Family stuff isn’t easy. Bela doesn’t talk about what happened to her parents either.” Behind her, Bela let out a huff. “We can talk about something else. What do you like to do for fun?”

“I…don’t know.” He couldn’t think of a thing that he enjoyed doing. On the streets, his primary goal was staying alive long enough to see the next day and before that…well, he hadn’t had much opportunity to do things for fun.

“Now’s as good a time as any to find out!” Charlie said enthusiastically. “I’m meeting Sam and Dean at the park, wanna join us?”

“I’m pretty tired from school. I think I’ll pass.”

She hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Okay.” He saw her shrug at Bela before the two of them walked out of the room and closed the door behind them. He waited for a few moments, listening to their footsteps move down the hallway. Then he rolled over on his bed and opened his backpack.

At the bottom of the pack was a wad of cash tied together with a rubber band. He unrolled it and counted it. Only $34, all that was left of the hundred he had stolen before he ran away. He had tried to spend it sparingly but he was unused to having an empty stomach in his old life and summer nights could get cold without food in one’s belly. He didn’t know how much a bus ticket would cost, but it was almost certainly more than $34. Besides, he had nowhere to go.

He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes, dreaming of being free of this city.

 

* * *

 

 

That night, he squeezed out of his window again and flew toward the city. Once reaching the taller buildings downtown, he headed toward the spot where the car crash happened last night. The street was just as empty as it had been then and the only signs of the crash were bits of debris that hadn’t been cleaned up and a large scorch mark on the pavement. Castiel knelt down in the middle of it, where an area in the shape of a perfect circle remained unburned.

“You again.”

Castiel stood up and whirled around, cursing himself for not listening more closely. The boy from the night before leaned against the side of the nearby building, his face still covered by a ski mask that had been cut so that it covered the upper part of his face. He wore a black sweatshirt similar to the one Castiel wore, its loose fit not disguising his tall, lanky figure.

“What are you doing here?” Castiel demanded.

“Same as you, I’m guessing. Seeing what’s left.”

Castiel looked down at the scorched street and the one untouched patch. “I suppose you saved my life,” he said grudgingly.

The boy snorted. “Was that supposed to be a thank you? I’m blown away by your sincerity.”

Castiel ignored him and started to walk away.

“Woah, woah, wait!” Footsteps ran after him and a moment later the boy fell into step with him. “I’ve never met another Gifted in person before. Who are you?”

Castiel looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Do you think if I wanted people to know who I was I’d be covering my face?”

“Fair point,” the boy chuckled. He gestured to the ski mask over his face. “Me too, I guess. I’m still trying to come up with a good superhero persona. I was thinking of going with Batman.” He lowered his voice to a rasping growl. “But I guess that’s already taken. Besides, my powers don’t have anything to do with bats. It’d probably fit you better than me, since you can fly.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, not deigning this worthy of a response.

“What do you call yourself? Tell me it’s something cool.”

“I don’t call myself anything.”

“It’s hard to think of a name, right? But I need something to call you.”

“Why would you need to call me anything?”

“Well if we’re going to be working together—”

Castiel stopped. “Who said anything about working together?”

The boy stopped as well and turned back to grin at him. “Obviously. We’ll be the best crime-fighting duo in Lebanon - nay, the world!”

Shaking his head, Castiel walked on past the boy. “I’m not working with you.”

“Let me guess.” He lowered his voice to its growly Batman imitation. “I work alone. Nobody is good enough to work with me.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Castiel said through gritted teeth. “I can’t afford to be looking out for somebody else while I’m doing this. It’s too dangerous.”

“What about somebody looking out for you? Come on, it’s much safer with somebody watching your back. Besides, I’ve already saved your life. Doesn’t that prove that I’m pretty good at this?”

Castiel stopped dead in his tracks, listening carefully. Thinking that he had won the argument, the boy looked at him with a gleam of triumph in his eyes, but Castiel put up a hand before he could speak. “Do you hear that?”

The look on the boy’s face immediately turned to one of concentration. “Hear what?”

Focusing, Castiel pinpointed the sound of muffled shouts to a spot a few blocks away. He heard the click of a gun and took off into the air without another word to the boy, flying toward the sound. Buildings flew past in a blur. As soon as the convenience store that the noises originated from came into view, he rocketed toward it and crashed feet-first through the window.

The four people inside shouted and ducked as they were showered with broken glass. Their surprise disappeared quickly, though, and before Castiel could even regain his feet, three guns were pointed at him. The men were dressed all in black with red bandanas tied over their faces. A small man who looked like he was a few seconds away from fainting stood behind the counter of the store with his hands raised in the air.

“Who the hell are you?” one of the robbers demanded.

Ignoring the question, Castiel said, “Leave whatever you’ve taken and get out of here.”

The man laughed. “You’re not in a position to be telling us what to do. You!” he barked at the storeowner, who whimpered. “Start getting that money from the cash register into a bag.”

“Please,” the owner sniveled. “I need this money—”

One of the robbers turned away from Castiel to point his gun at the owner, who yelped and immediately opened the cash register to begin stuffing the bills into a plastic bag.

“You don’t want to do this,” Castiel warned.

“Don’t I?” the robber who had spoken first said in a mocking voice. “You sure about that? Because I really think I—”

He was cut off by a fist-sized rock that flew through the broken window and hit him square in the forehead. He dropped to the ground, bleeding freely from a gash on his head. Before either of the others could process what was happening, Castiel jumped into the air and flew toward the robber whose gun was pointing at the storeowner. The man shouted as Castiel tackled him to the ground, seizing his gun and throwing it across the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel saw the boy from earlier barrel through the door and throw himself at the other robber.

“Call the police!” Castiel shouted to the storeowner as he tried to hold down the struggling robber beneath him. He threw in a punch but the robber managed to free one of his arms and wrap a hand around Castiel’s throat. Immediately, Castiel threw himself backwards. He jumped to his feet and slammed his heel down into the man’s gut. The robber choked and clutched his stomach, momentarily unable to fight back. In that moment, Castiel spun around toward the other boy.

The robber had him pinned against the wall, his arm pressed to his throat. The boy’s eyes were rolling back. As Castiel watched, the robber lifted his gun to press against the boy’s chin.

Castiel flew across the room, straight into the robber, dragging him away from the boy. The gun fired twice, the bullets lodging themselves in the ceiling of the store. Castiel slammed the man to the ground, where he stayed after his head hit the concrete. Turning back toward the last remaining robber, Castiel saw the boy pick up one of the fallen metal shelves from the ground. Driving one end of the shelf several inches into the floor next to the robber, who was still gasping for air on the ground, the boy then bent the solid metal with what seemed like barely any effort. He drove the other end into the floor as well, pinning the robber to the ground. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Castiel was all right, he hurried toward the storeowner, who was pressed against the back wall with tears running down his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked the shaking man.

“Y-yes,” the owner managed. “Th-thank you. You saved me.”

“Did you call the police?” Castiel asked, stepping up behind the other boy. The owner nodded and Castiel met the boy’s eyes. “We should leave.”

The robber underneath the bent shelf finally regained enough air to form words. “Long live the Queen!” he shouted.

“Go screw yourself,” the boy said, giving the robber a final kick as they walked out of the trashed store, the owner’s profuse thanks following them out the door. In the distance, Castiel could hear police sirens coming closer.

The other boy walked alongside Castiel as they left the store behind. “Super hearing, huh? Plus the flying. You really are a bat.”

“And strength for you,” Castiel said, thinking of the effortless way the boy had bent that metal shelf. “And force fields.”

“That’s right.”

“Are you hurt?” Castiel asked, noting the raspy sound to the boy’s voice.

“Not badly,” he said, rubbing his throat. “Thanks, by the way. You saved my life.”

“We’re even now,” Castiel said, bending his knees to take off into the sky.

“Hang on!” the boy said, grabbing Castiel’s elbow to stop him. “You probably would’ve been shot if I hadn’t showed up and thrown that rock. This is exactly what I was talking about – we work better if we have somebody watching our backs.”

“No, this is exactly what _I_ was talking about.” Castiel yanked his arm out of the boy’s grasp. “I don’t want to have to worry about looking out for you while I’m doing my job. It makes me too vulnerable.”

“Oh, come on—”

“That’s my final answer,” Castiel snapped. Before the boy could start the argument back up again, he pushed off the ground and left the boy standing on the empty street far below.


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel’s second day of school was hardly better than his first. He was just as exhausted as the day before but this time his teachers weren’t as tolerant. He was supposed to have done a Physics worksheet the night before and when the teacher asked him for it he shrugged and feigned ignorance. With a disapproving look, she handed him a new worksheet and told him that it and the one from the night before were due the next day.

His English class was more than halfway done with _Slaughterhouse Five_ , whereas Castiel hadn’t read more than a page. At lunch, he tried to read over the sounds of Kevin and Sam discussing a paper for one of their classes and Dean grumbling that their “nerdiness” was obnoxious, but within a few minutes he was facedown in the book, asleep. The boys woke him and Dean teased Sam that he was so boring he had sent Castiel to sleep. Garth asked if Castiel was okay, and he just shrugged.

He knew he should stay in that night and get some rest, but as soon as night fell he was wide-awake and restless. He lay in bed for a while, hoping that drowsiness would claim him but gave up after twenty minutes. The window didn’t squeak as badly as before when he pushed it open, thanks to the cooking spray he had applied to the hinges earlier that day. He squeezed out and flew toward downtown.

It was a quiet night. The whole city seemed to be tucked away in bed and Castiel wondered, after a half an hour of swooping between skyscrapers without picking up sounds of trouble, if it would be better to simply go back to bed himself. Slightly disappointed, he started to fly back toward the Home. His route took him past the site of the car crash of the other night, and when he glanced down he spotted a figure leaning against the side of the building, looking at the unburned circle on the pavement. Castiel stopped himself and dropped lower.

A second later, he recognized the boy, but at the same moment the boy looked up and spotted him and it was too late to fly away. He landed on the ground several paces away.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Wondering if you’d show up.” The boy’s surly expression was clear even through his mask. “Though I don’t know why you did, since you made it pretty clear you don’t want to work together.”

“I was just passing by. It’s not my fault that we keep running into each other.”

“It’s a pretty big city,” the boy scoffed. “It shouldn’t be too hard for us to avoid each other.”

“I never said we had to avoid each other. I just said we shouldn’t—” He stopped suddenly as his ears caught the distant sound of breaking glass, too far away to be anywhere downtown. He cocked his head toward the noise.

“Did you hear something?” the boy demanded. “What is it?”

“A break-in of some kind, I think. I have to go.”

He made to take off, but the boy grabbed his arm. “Take me with you.”

“I told you, we can’t—”

“If something’s going on, I can’t just sit by and do nothing. Let me help you.”

Castiel hesitated but the boy tightened his grip on his arm. Something inside him gave way.

“You’re not going to like this,” he warned, then slid his arms under the other boy’s armpits and shot into the air. The boy shouted and kicked his legs about wildly and Castiel yelled, “Stop struggling!” They flew upward, far above the tops of the buildings, until the street they had been standing on a moment before was nothing more than a tiny line in the web of city blocks below them. The boy was holding his breath, frozen still, as if terrified that Castiel would drop him. But Castiel tightened his grip around the boy’s arms and hovered in the air, listening.

“It’s coming from the high school,” he said, finally locating the source of the noise.

“Th-the high s-school?” the boy stammered.

“Going down.” They dropped like twin stones. The boy’s scream was torn away by the wind and Castiel felt a smile tug at his lips. He directed them toward the high school on the edge of the city. In the empty parking lot, he set the boy down on his feet and after taking two steps the boy’s shaking legs gave out and he collapsed spread-eagled onto his back.

“Don’t…ever…do that…again,” he gasped.

“Do what?” Castiel said with feigned innocence, barely holding back a smile. “I thought you wanted to come with me.”

The boy lifted his head to glare at Castiel. “Give me some warning next time!”

A muted crash from inside the school building pulled Castiel’s attention back to the task at hand. Offering a hand to the boy, he dragged him to his feet. “Let’s go.”

As they hurried toward the school, Castiel found himself wondering if the boy went to this school as well. They were both around the same age, after all. Could they have passed in the hallway without even realizing it?

He pushed these thoughts out of mind when he spotted the broken window of one of the classrooms. A dark figure moved around inside.

“That’s a chemistry classroom,” the boy whispered. So he did go to this school. Or he could have already graduated, Castiel realized. Nonetheless, the odds that they could meet in real life without knowing were much higher than he had previously thought.

_Focus, Castiel_ , he told himself. This was no time for idle speculation. They crept closer to the window until they were crouched just below the sill. Castiel chanced a peek inside and spotted a tall, thin man with his back to them, stuffing items from a supply closet into a duffel bag. When he turned slightly to the side, Castiel ducked back down with a sharp inhale of breath. He knew that face.

“What is it?” the boy breathed.

“His name is Alistair,” Castiel whispered shakily. “He’s a Gifted, but I don’t know what he can do. We’ll need to be careful.”

“Okay, what’s the plan?”

Castiel considered for a moment. “You create a distraction – draw his attention away from me, then I’ll fly in for the attack.”

“Simple. I like it.” The boy grinned. “On three?”

“One…two…three!”

The boy jumped to his feet with a fist-sized rock in his hand and chucked it through the window toward the far end of the classroom. The rock smashed into a row of beakers and Alistair spun around at the din of shattering glass. Castiel leapt through the window, flying straight toward the thin man, faster than he had ever flown before. In less than a heartbeat he was pulling his fist back to deliver a punch.

Then Alistair whirled, catching Castiel’s punch in his palm. The man’s face twisted into a sneer.

Castiel gasped as his muscles went limp and he collapsed to the concrete floor. He couldn’t move. He didn’t even have the strength to even pull air into his lungs and push it out again. He lay, immobile, useless. Somewhere nearby, he heard Alistair laughing and the boy shouting. Alistair stepped over his prone body, kicking him in the gut for good measure, though he barely felt it. A moment later, a pair of hands appeared, shaking his numb arm.

“What happened? Are you okay?”

With huge effort, Castiel gathered the strength to turn his head. It was hard to tell with through his mask, but the boy looked almost frightened.

“Where’d he go?” Castiel mumbled.

“He left. Took the duffel bag and ran.”

Somehow, Castiel managed to sit up. He felt as if every ounce of strength had been pulled from his body. “We have to go after him.”

“Are you crazy? Did you see what he did to you?”

“We can’t let him touch us. He steals strength.”

“Can you even stand?”

Gritting his teeth, Castiel grabbed the side of the desk beside him and pulled himself to his feet. He wasn’t back to full strength but at least his legs felt fairly steady.

“Did you see which way he went?”

“He ran out of the classroom and down the hallway to the left.”

“Let’s go.”

“Hang o—”

Before the boy could finish, Castiel lifted him up and took off, flying close to the ground out of the classroom and along the dark hallway. The boy shouted in protest but didn’t struggle this time, which Castiel was glad of; he didn’t know if he could keep holding on if he did.

Ahead, he could see the figure of a tall man carrying a duffel bag. Castiel gritted his teeth as they flew nearer. There was no trying to surprise Alistair this time; he had already seen them coming and was setting his bag down and cracking his knuckles, a sickening grin on his face. A few paces away from him, Castiel landed and set the boy down on his feet.

“You don’t know how to admit defeat, do you?” Alistair said in a rasping, high-pitched voice.

“What are you doing in this school?” Castiel demanded.

“Well, I would just love to tell you,” Alistair said, feigning disappointment. “But the boss wouldn’t be too happy about that.”

“Who are you working for?” the boy shouted. His voice echoed strangely in the empty hallway.

“I think _you_ know, don’t you?” Alistair nodded to Castiel, whose insides went cold. “Ohhh yes, I recognized you. Lots of important people out looking for you. You’ve caused a bit of trouble, haven’t you?”

Castiel’s throat was dry. No words came to his lips and he stood there dumbly, staring at Alistair with wide eyes.

“Now you wouldn’t mind telling me where you’ve been hiding, would you? I’m sure Crowley would be more than happy to get that information.”

Castiel leapt forward, attacking with elbows and knees rather than his bare fists. Alistair’s smile only widened as he fought him off with ease, and Castiel got the feeling that Alistair could touch him at any moment and sap his strength away; he was playing with him. Fury lent strength to his blows, but Alistair just laughed.

Then the boy was there, landing a blow to Alistair’s side that would have crushed a normal man’s ribcage. Alistair let out a howl and turned to defend himself, but not fast enough. The boy sent him flying across the hallway into a trophy case, which shattered and showered glass over the three of them as Alistair slumped to the ground.

“Don’t let him touch you!” Castiel shouted in warning as the boy advanced again. Alistair hadn’t moved, bleeding from a multitude of cuts from the broken glass. The boy stood over him, waiting to see if he was conscious while Castiel hung back, not daring to breathe.

After a few moments, when Alistair still hadn’t moved, the boy looked back toward Castiel with a grin. “We got him.”

Without warning, Alistair’s hand shot out and seized the boy’s ankle, yanking it toward him and pulling the boy off his feet. The boy went down with a shout, landing hard on his back, and in an instant Alistair was on top of him, holding his hand to the boy’s bare throat and drawing out all of his considerable strength. Castiel started forward too late as Alistair jumped to his feet, laughing. Behind him, the boy lay motionless.

Before Castiel could run, Alistair seized him around the neck with one hand, lifting him easily off the ground. Castiel choked for air, scrabbling uselessly at Alistair’s arm, feeling the little strength he had left drain from his body.

“I could crush you with two fingers,” Alistair said almost thoughtfully. Then he sighed, looking disappointed. “But I suppose your mother wouldn’t be too pleased with me if I did.” Castiel’s vision started to go black around the edges. “Besides, Crowley will be happy to hear that you’re still around and putting up a fight.”

The sound of sirens just outside the school building cut through the night. Alistair’s head snapped toward the sound and he let out a frustrated growl.

“This isn’t over,” he muttered. “We’ll save this for another time.”

A beam of light shone onto the wall of the hallway and a voice shouted, “Down here!” A second later, a group of policemen flooded into the hallway, pulling out guns and training them on the three of them. With a shout, Alistair threw Castiel upward with all of his strength. In the split second after he crashed into the ceiling and before the floor came rushing back up to meet his face, Castiel’s vision went black.

Shouts filled his ears and the floor shook with running footsteps. Castiel gritted his teeth, rolling onto his back and opening his eyes. Above him, the concrete ceiling had a crack in it where he had crashed into it. Every inch of his body ached.

“Put your hands up!” a loud voice nearby shouted. “Don’t move!”

“He’s hurt!” The boy swam into focus above Castiel, leaning over him and grabbing his shoulders. Castiel saw panic in his eyes. “We have to get out of here,” the boy muttered.

Groaning, Castiel managed to stumble to his feet with the boy’s help. He turned to face five police officers with their guns trained on them. Alistair’s duffle bag was still on the floor and Castiel saw a few of the officers eyeing it nervously.

Castiel put his hands in the air to show that he meant no harm, then stepped slowly toward the duffle bag, picking it up and making a gesture to show that he meant to hand it over.

“What’s in there?” one of the officers demanded. Castiel slowly unzipped the bag. While the police peered into the bag full of chemistry supplies in confusion, Castiel threw it toward them as hard as he could. Over their shouts of surprise, he seized the boy and shot through the nearest window, shattering the glass as they flew through. He heard bullets whiz past him, but nothing touched them and in an instant, they were far, far above the school where nobody could touch them.

The boy mumbled, “That was something, wasn’t it?”

“Let’s get out of here,” Castiel said, and they flew away.

A few minutes later, Castiel landed them on the flat-topped roof of an apartment building. The boy tried to take a step, but he stumbled, still weak, landing on his hands and knees. Castiel helped him move to the side of the roof, where he leaned against the half-wall there.

“Ugh, I feel like I ran a marathon or something,” the boy groaned.

“Are you going to be okay?” Castiel asked.

“I’ll be fine, just give me a minute. Are you?”

“I’ll live.”

The boy closed his eyes. When he opened them a few moments later, he was frowning. “That Alistair…he knew you.”

Castiel crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes.”

“He said there are important people looking for you. What did he mean?”

Castiel said nothing, his stomach tightening. After a few moments of silence the boy said, “I shouldn’t have asked. I don’t need to know.”

“Can you move? I should go soon.”

“Help me up.” The boy held out a hand to Castiel, who grabbed it and hauled him to his feet. He looked shaky for a few moments but managed to stay upright.

“What I don’t understand,” the boy said, “is what he was going to do with all those chemistry supplies.”

“I don’t know.”

“And who is this Crowley he mentioned?”

Castiel swallowed. “Crowley is a crime lord. He practically runs Lebanon and this part of Kansas. Nearly all the criminals in the city answer to him.”

The boy looked at him in surprise. “How do you know that?” When Castiel turned away, he quickly said, “Never mind, you don’t have to tell me.”

“Thank you,” Castiel murmured.

“Listen – there’s obviously something bigger going on here. Neither of us can face it alone. I definitely wouldn’t want to fight someone like Alistair without you by my side.”

Castiel looked back at him, sighing. “We shouldn’t—”

“Why not?” the boy persisted. “We fight better together. We’re safer when we have each other. And if there’s something big coming, wouldn’t you rather not be alone to face it?”

For a long moment, Castiel said nothing. There were so many risks to what the boy was proposing, probably even more than he could even think of now. His secret wouldn’t be safe. But had it ever? Now that Crowley knew that he was still around, he was always going to be at risk. Wouldn’t it be better to have somebody on his side?

“How can you trust me without knowing who I am?” he asked carefully.

“That doesn’t matter. It’s not like you know who I am either.” The boy grinned. “Besides, I thought of a name for you. I’m gonna call you Feathers.”

Castiel snorted. “I don’t have wings.”

“That’s not important. Do you like it?”

Castiel rolled his eyes, pressing his lips together to hide the smile that threatened to steal its way onto his face. “You can call me that if you like.”

“Then is that it?” The boy’s grin widened. “Are we partners?”

“Yes, alright. At least for now, we’re partners.”

The boy held his hand out for Castiel to shake, and Castiel did.

“Defending Lebanon from the bad guys, Feathers and…” the boy scowled. “Dammit, I still haven’t thought of a name for myself.”

“You’ll think of something,” Castiel said. “I should go.”

“Alright then, partner. Till tomorrow night.”

“Till then.” Castiel bent his knees and took off straight into the air, the wind whistling past his ears.


	4. Chapter 4

When the bus pulled up to the school in the morning, Castiel heard murmurs spread among the students. At least four cop cars and a fire engine were parked in front of the main entrance and students were beginning to gather around them. As soon as they stepped off the bus, Charlie grabbed Castiel’s wrist and dragged him toward the crowd, where Castiel was able to hear, over the noise of the curious students, one of the officers saying, “It was just a break-in. Nothing too serious, but we can’t be too careful.”

“There was a break-in,” Castiel told Charlie.

“How could you hear that?” She stood on her tiptoes, trying to see over people’s heads. “There’s like twenty people between us and them.”

Dean appeared beside them with Sam trailing behind him. “Hey, do you know what’s going on?”

“Cas says there was a break-in,” Charlie reported.

“That’s what the police officer said,” Castiel said quickly.

“Why would anyone want to break into the high school?” Sam frowned.

“Probably Kevin, trying to change his score on his first history test from a B- to an A,” Dean snorted.

“Let’s try to get closer,” Charlie said. They managed to push their way closer to the front of the crowd, but they weren’t able to learn any new information from the tight-lipped officers. Soon, the crowd dispersed as everyone left for class. Charlie and Dean playfully bounced theories back and forth about what the break-in could have been about as they walked to their first period, while Castiel stayed quiet.

“I bet it was Mr. Shurley trying to steal library book because he can’t afford to go to the – Woah…” Charlie trailed off as they came to a part of the hallway that had been taped off. They joined the small crowd that had gathered and looked up at the body-sized dent on the concrete ceiling. Castiel’s bruised back ached all over again at the sight of it. The broken glass and trophies had been cleared away from the display case, but it was clear that something had been thrown there with great force.

“What could have done that?” Charlie muttered.

Before any of them could speculate, the bell rang, signaling the start of first period. They ran toward the classroom, though it didn’t matter much that they were late; students came straggling in as late as ten minutes after the bell.

The class was distracted and unfocused. Nobody wanted to think much about Vonnegut or literary devices when there had clearly been a major incident last night. Already, rumors were beginning to fly about what it could have been. When Castiel first heard the word “Gifteds” muttered by the students in front of him, his spine prickled and he looked down at his desk.

“Only a Gifted could have made that dent in the ceiling,” one of the kids whispered. “And somebody thinks they heard the police talking about someone _flying_.”

“Flying?” the other snorted. “I don’t know of anyone in Lebanon who can fly.”

“Yeah, like _you_ would know any Gifteds.”

“Mr. Zeddmore! Mr. Spengler!” Mr. Shurley called out. “Please pay attention. Now, everyone, turn to page 88. Mr. Winchester, if you could read starting from the second paragraph from the bottom?”

Castiel’s thoughts wandered as Dean’s voice filled the room. The other boy…he went to this school too. He hadn’t thought about that much. Did that mean that he, too, had showed up to school today and pretended to be as surprised as everyone else? Had Castiel seen him unknowingly, assuming him to be just another curious spectator?

When the bell rang to signal the end of class, Castiel began to pack his bag like everybody else, but Mr. Shurley said, “Castiel, will you wait here for a moment? I’d like to speak with you.”

Castiel looked uncertainly at Charlie, who shrugged and waved to him as she walked out the door. He swung his backpack over his shoulder and walked to the front of the classroom where Mr. Shurley waited.

“I noticed you’re not joining in the discussion at all,” Mr. Shurley said.

“Um…”

“Not to worry, I know that it can be hard starting in at a new school and trying to catch up. But I don’t want you to continue struggling, Castiel. I’m going to set you up with a tutor for this class.”

“Mr. Shurley, that’s not necessary—”

“It won’t be for long, at least until you are at the same spot as everyone else. There’s no need to be ashamed about it.”

“I’m not ashamed…”

“Good, then it’s settled. Go to the library after school is over and I’ll have someone there who can help you out.”

“Um…okay,” Castiel said. “Is that it?”

“Yes, go on. You can’t be late for your next class.”

Castiel left the classroom to find Charlie waiting for him, looking expectant.

“He’s giving me an English tutor,” Castiel said, sounding disgruntled even to himself.

“Hey, that could be a good thing,” Charlie said. “Aren’t you only, like, five pages into the book?”

Castiel shot her a look.

“Besides, maybe he’ll give you a cute girl as a tutor,” Charlie said in a teasing, singsong voice.

“I don’t want a cute girl tutor,” Castiel muttered.

“You don’t…oh. Oh!” Charlie’s face lit up. “Are you gay?”

Castiel said nothing, but his silence may as well have confirmed it.

“Me too!” Charlie exclaimed. “So promise you’ll tell me if it’s a cute girl, ‘kay?”

Castiel bit his lip and kept walking.

 

* * *

 

 

He didn’t think much about the tutor for the rest of the day. His thoughts were focused instead on his coming out, albeit indirectly, to Charlie. He had never told anyone out loud before. Since he had never gone to a public school, he didn’t know what to expect. In all of the shows he’d seen, it was a big deal whenever someone came out and the entire school always seemed to know within a few hours. But nobody said anything to him or even looked at him differently. Castiel wondered if they simply didn’t care enough. It had never been a big deal to him. He hadn’t made a conscious effort of hiding it, and he felt that it was fairly obvious if anyone cared enough to pay attention. But he supposed it might be a big deal for other people.

He was glad Charlie hadn’t made a scene of it. He had never had a friend who was gay; maybe it would be nice.

These thoughts were still turning over in his mind when he walked into the library after his last class of the day. He wasn’t sure how Mr. Shurley expected him to know who to go to, as there were a number of students sitting at tables across the library, buried in books or computers. Nobody seemed to be paying any attention to him as he lingered by the doorway. Then Castiel noticed Dean tapping on a laptop across the room and decided to join him until he figured out who his tutor was supposed to be.

Dean didn’t notice Castiel until he was standing right beside the table, unsure whether he should sit down without invitation. The look of concentration on Dean’s face was immediately replaced by a bright smile.

“Good, you remembered!”

“Remembered?”

“Tutoring, right? Mr. Shurley asked me to help you out with English.”

“He asked _you_?”

Dean’s face fell a little. “Hey, my grades aren’t _that_ bad.”

“Sorry, that’s not what I meant,” Castiel said quickly, finding himself blushing. “I just didn’t expect – you don’t seem like…”

“Look, I know I’m not the smartest kid in the class, but Chuck likes me and he knows I like Vonnegut, so why the hell not?”

“Right,” Castiel said feebly. He hadn’t had a conversation one-on-one with Dean before and was just now noticing the freckles sprinkled across his cheeks. It was distracting. “Uh, can I sit?”

Dean gestured for him to go ahead. As Castiel pulled out a chair, Dean started to close his laptop but Castiel’s eyes caught the document he had been typing in.

“Hang on, what’s that?”

“This?” Dean opened his laptop back up and Castiel read the title in large font at the top of the document: _Break-in results in damage to classroom, hallway._ “It’s an article I’m writing for the school newspaper. It’s the most interesting thing that’s happened to this school since I’ve been here, so I figured I should grab it before anyone else got to it.”

Castiel scanned the article. “Where’d you get all this information?”

“I asked the police officers,” Dean said, sounding pleased with himself. “They were happy to clear up the rumors that’ve been flying around.”

The article talked about two Gifteds spotted by the police, one of whom could fly. A third had run away, though the police weren’t sure whether or not he was a Gifted as well. The two had been taking a bag full of chemistry supplies, which they left behind when they fled.

“And this is really what happened?” Castiel asked, feigning innocence. “That’s why the hallway and the chemistry lab are so bashed up?”

“As far as I know.” Dean shrugged. “The police don’t know everything themselves, but this is what they told me.”

“Why would they want to take chemistry supplies?” Castiel asked. “And who was the third person? Why did he run? Why did the police assume it was the two Gifteds doing the stealing instead of the third man?”

“Look, it’s not my place to speculate,” Dean said, holding up his hands. “I’m just here to report the facts.”

Castiel read over the article again, looking for some new piece of information that might give him a hint. Finally, Dean shut his laptop.

“This isn’t what we came here for. Come on, let’s get back to Vonnegut.”

 

* * *

 

 

An hour later, Castiel and Dean closed their books and packed their backpacks up. They were the only ones left in the library besides Dean’s brother Sam, who was waiting for a ride home and doing his homework a few tables over. Castiel walked with the brothers out of the school and toward the nearly empty parking lot.

“Is Jody coming to pick you up, Cas?” Dean asked.

“Oh,” Castiel said, realizing he hadn’t told Jody that he was staying late after school. “No, I thought I’d walk home.”

“No way, dude, that’s like three miles. Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Don’t worry about it, you’re on my way.”

Deciding not to argue, Castiel followed Sam and Dean to the parking lot. Dean led them to a sleek black car that Castiel recognized would probably be “cool” to people that knew anything about cars. Dean patted the car’s roof when they reached it.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” he said proudly to Castiel. “She was my dad’s before she was mine.”

The smile on Dean’s face was distant as if remembering something that Castiel had no part of. Sam moved to open the passenger side door, but Dean said, “Hey, no! Cas gets shotgun.”

“But Dean!”

“Age first, dude. Come on, Cas.”

“Sorry,” Castiel said to Sam as he climbed into the passenger seat and Sam into the back. “And I’m sorry that you had to wait for us.”

“It’s fine,” Sam said. “I finished most of my homework for the night. Though I should probably start on tomorrow’s too if I have the time.”

“Nerd,” Dean said affectionately, climbing into the driver’s seat and starting the car with a low rumble of the engine.

Castiel didn’t speak much during the car ride. Sam and Dean filled the silence with the lighthearted teasing and bickering of two siblings who spent a lot of time together and enjoyed each other’s company. Castiel felt a faint pang as he listened to them; he had never been this close with any of his brothers. He pushed the thought out of his mind and tried to listen to Sam and Dean arguing about licorice as movie food.

“Okay Cas,” Dean said, turning onto the street where Castiel now lived. “Your answer to this question might determine whether or not I tutor you again. What do you think of licorice?”

“Um.” Castiel didn’t know whether he had ever tasted licorice. If he had, he had no idea if he liked it. “It’s fine, I suppose.”

“Yes!” Dean exclaimed as Sam groaned in the back seat and the car came to a stop in front of the Home. “Correct answer. I guess I’ll hang out with you again.”

“Thanks for the ride,” Castiel said, opening the door and climbing out.

“No problem. See you tomorrow!”

Dean waved as they drove away and Castiel lifted his hand in response. When the car rounded the corner and disappeared, Castiel turned and headed toward the house.

Jody answered the door when he knocked. “Welcome back. I didn’t know you were staying late.”

“Oh. It was a bit last minute so I didn’t know either.”

“Charlie told me. But next time let me know, okay?”

“I don’t really have a way…” Castiel started, but trailed off when Jody held something out to him.

“I know it’s only a flip phone and you kids use much fancier gadgets these days. But it’s something, in case you ever need to get ahold of me.”

Castiel felt his face flush. “You didn’t have to—”

“Course I did. While you’re in my house, Cas, I take care of you and make sure you have everything you need. Got it?”

Castiel nodded and took the phone. Jody studied him for a moment, then reached out and ruffled his hair. She walked away, leaving Castiel with a feeling that he didn’t recognize pinching his chest.

 

* * *

 

That night, he found the boy at the street corner where they had first met. When he landed on the ground, the boy grinned and walked toward him.

“Hey there, Feathers.”

Castiel groaned; he had forgotten about the new nickname. “You’re really going to call me that?”

“Unless I think of anything better,” the boy shrugged. “Come on, now you have to think of something to call me.”

“You can think of something yourself,” Castiel muttered.

“It’s our first official day as partners, we can’t be fighting already!”

“Don’t we have more important things to focus on?”

“That’s right. Okay, Mr. Super Hearing, tell me where we’re needed.”

Castiel closed his eyes and concentrated. He tuned out the normal sounds of traffic and idle late-night conversations, listening for any signs of trouble, but nothing seemed out of place. He frowned, listening harder, searching. Finally he opened up his eyes and shook his head. “I can’t find anything.”

“Are you serious?”

“Not that I can hear, at least. It’s all normal.”

The boy groaned and tilted his head back. “Of course, on our first night as partners we have nothing to do.”

“I could fly around and see if I can find anything,” Castiel suggested.

“If you’re doing that, I’m coming with you.”

Castiel raised his eyebrows. “I thought you didn’t like flying.”

The boy scowled. “I don’t like it when you grab me and fly up hundreds of feet without warning! And I don’t want to just wait here on the ground while you go off. We’re partners, remember? We work together.”

“If you insist. Are you ready now?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” The boy held his arms straight out from his side, and Castiel looped his arms around them, moving closer so that his chest was against the boy’s back. “Yeehaw,” the boy said jokingly, and Castiel was very glad that the boy couldn’t see the color flushing his cheeks. He took off into the air, grunting at the extra weight, flying high above the buildings.

“Woah,” the boy muttered.

“Are you alright?”

“Maybe heights aren’t my thing after all.” A small shudder went through the boy’s body. “At least it’s better than airplanes.”

“I won’t let go,” Castiel promised. “We’ll have to get lower if we want to see anything.”

He swooped down, feeling the boy’s body tense and tightening his grip in reassurance. They flew low above the tops of buildings, scanning streets below for signs of trouble.

“Too bad neither of us has eagle eyes,” the boy said with a slight laugh. “Are you seeing anything?”

“Nothing,” Castiel said, frustrated. They continued flying and searching.

After a while, the boy looked up from the streets and made a small noise of appreciation at the sight of the city spread out beneath him. “Y’know, it’s really beautiful up here. You’re lucky that you can see it anytime you want.”

“I suppose I am,” Castiel said.

The boy huffed a small laugh. “I feel like Jasmine.”

“What?”

“ _I can show you the world_ ,” the boy sang quietly. When Castiel didn’t respond, he said, “Don’t tell me you haven’t seen Aladdin.”

“I haven’t.”

The boy groaned. “Come on, man! Who even are you? No, you don’t have to answer that.”

A few minutes later, having found nothing, Castiel flew down and landed them on the top of an office building. “I suppose we can wait up here until we find something.”

They sat side by side on the edge of the rooftop, their feet dangling in the open air hundreds of feet from the ground. Castiel kept his ears focused on listening for the sounds of anything suspicious.

“So what’s your origin story?” the boy asked.

“Huh?” Castiel mumbled, his concentration torn away from his task.

“Your origin story. What got you started on this?”

Castiel snorted. “You know we don’t have origin stories like comic book superheroes. We aren’t bitten by radioactive spiders or fall from alien planets. We’re just born as we are. Nobody knows why.”

“I know that. But why did you start doing this? Most Gifteds hide their powers and never use them. Why’d you choose to use yours?”

Castiel looked down at his hands in his lap. “It wasn’t a choice at first.” He could feel the boy watching him but didn’t look up. “Somebody that I thought I could trust found out about my abilities and started using me. She wanted to be powerful and she exploited me as her weapon to ensure that she stayed strong. I…I did a lot of bad things. I hurt people. I did things that I can never undo.”

“That’s how Alistair knew who you were,” the boy said quietly.

“Yes. My – er, the person who was controlling me, she had me working with Crowley. They used me to do things that I can never forgive myself for.” Castiel took a deep breath. “But I got away from there and I decided that I was going to use my abilities to help people from now on. Perhaps if I save enough people it can atone for all the wrong that I’ve done.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” the boy said. “If you didn’t have a choice, if somebody you trusted forced you, you can’t blame yourself.”

“Perhaps.” Castiel looked up at the boy’s frowning face. “Nonetheless, I did those things. I could have refused but I was afraid and weak.”

Tentatively, the boy reached out to pat Castiel’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re doing what you’re doing now, Feathers.”

Castiel cleared his throat and looked down again. “What about you? Why did you start?”

“Oh. Hmm.” The boy hummed in his throat and tilted his head back. “My reasons aren’t that different from yours, actually. I hurt some people with my powers. It was an accident but it still happened and it was my fault. After that, I didn’t want to use my powers to hurt anyone ever again. There are a lot of people in this world who can’t protect themselves, and if I can help even a few of them then I’ll have done some good.”

The boy turned his head to see Castiel watching him. “That’s very noble,” Castiel said quietly.

“Are you making fun of me?”

“No, I mean it.”

“Yeah, we’re both a couple of noble dumbasses,” the boy muttered. He stood up and stretched his arms over his head. “Is there anything happening out there? If not, maybe we should call it a night. I haven’t gotten a decent night’s rest in ages.”

“I think it’s all quiet tonight,” Castiel said, standing up as well. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”


	5. Chapter 5

At lunch on Monday, Castiel sat down at his usual table with the other boys to see a small stack of newspapers in the center. Dean grinned and tossed him one of the papers. “Hey Cas, my article is front page news.”

Castiel looked down at the newspaper, which had “Lebanon High News” written across the top. The article that Castiel had seen on Dean’s laptop was printed on the front, alongside a photograph of the damaged trophy case in the hallway. “Congrats,” Castiel said distractedly, reading over the article.

It was much the same as it had been when Castiel saw it first, except for the last paragraph. _“Are the police correct in thinking that the two Gifteds sighted were the ones breaking into the school? Or could the third person have been the culprit and the Gifteds only trying to stop him? Could Lebanon have a new superhero duo defending its streets?”_

“I thought about what you said,” Dean said when Castiel looked up. “And I think you’re right; the police only know what they saw. Anything could have happened and we don’t know.”

“A superhero duo!” Charlie exclaimed with wide eyes. “That would be soooo cool!”

In no time, the news had flown around the school. By the end of Castiel’s next period, everyone was talking about the pair of superheroes that was flying around the city, breaking into schools to defend it from chemistry thieves. Somehow, a rumor started that the police were trying to cover up the truth because the mysterious third man on the scene was one of their people. Castiel found himself rolling his eyes when he heard this whispered between two of his tablemates in his civics class.

It was nice, he decided, to not have everyone believe that he was a burglar. But he didn’t think he liked having so many people interested in his nighttime activities. It made him all the more nervous about being discovered.

Then he remembered that the other boy went to this school as well. Somewhere, the same thoughts were probably going through his head. Although he probably wasn’t as bothered by it, Castiel realized. He wouldn’t be surprised if the boy was one of the people trying to brainstorm superhero names for the duo.

The rumors didn’t die away over the next few days; in fact, they only seemed to grow. Nobody could stop talking about the break-in or the supposed cover up by the police. Castiel overheard arguments about whether or not the two Gifteds should be considered criminals or not and about how far the conspiracy went. He kept his head down and avoided these conversations.

The next few nights that he went out, he didn’t find the other boy. He went to the usual street corner and flew over the whole area but the boy didn’t seem to be out. Perhaps he had gotten tired of this after all and decided that he had helped enough people to make up for whatever he did. It didn’t make much of a difference, anyways; the nights were quiet and uneventful. It seemed as though a hush had fallen over the city, but it wasn’t a hush that Castiel liked. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something worse was coming. And, though he was loathe to admit, it was much more boring flying around the city by himself without the boy to keep him company.

A few nights later, Castiel was flying toward the city, nearing the neon McDonald’s sign, when the low _boom_ of an explosion shook the night. Castiel wouldn’t even have needed his hearing abilities to notice it. The sound of screams filled his ears and he shot toward the commotion.

Flying low over the streets, he passed over the street corner and glanced down. The boy was running toward the sound of the explosion but he was too far away; he wouldn’t get there fast enough on foot. Castiel dove lower and shouted, “Above you!” The boy looked up just in time to see Castiel grab him by the arms and pull him into the air.

“You heard it?” the boy asked, out of breath.

“Of course. It came from the heart of downtown.”

As they flew nearer, the screams and sobs grew more distinct. Then a new sound filled the air.

“Gunshots,” the boy said.

“We’re almost there,” Castiel muttered, speeding around corners. Then they reached the source of the noise. Bright orange of fire bloomed in front of Castiel’s eyes, stopping him short and making it impossible for him to see anything else for a few moments. Slowly, the scene came into focus through the billowing smoke.

A nightclub was on fire. Half of the building’s front was gone, replaced with a jagged, burning hole. Castiel’s stomach twisted when he saw bodies on the pavement below, only some of which seemed to be moving. Others poured out of the club, screaming and pushing against each other in their desperation. A new round of gunshots cut through the air and Castiel’s eyes found the shooter, a man dressed all in black with a red bandana tied over his mouth. He saw Castiel at the same moment that Castiel saw him and the gun turned skyward.

Castiel dove, letting go of the boy as he dropped like a stone. Bullets whizzed past him but none touched him. The boy created a force field to soften his landing and immediately started running toward the shooter, while Castiel drew his fire by flying upward again. He could hear nothing but the sound of gunfire. He was flying faster than he had ever flown before, trying to outrun the bullets that missed him by inches.

The boy reached the shooter, delivering a blow that sent the man flying backwards into the burning building. Castiel hovered, out of breath but smiling, as the boy turned to give him a thumbs up.

Castiel heard a faint popping noise and the air beside to him exploded. He was sent spiraling out of control, slamming into the side of a building. Then he was falling, too disoriented to stop himself. His ears rang and all he could see was the burst of light branded into his eyes. When he hit the ground, he felt something in his left shoulder crack.

For a moment, he could do nothing but lay still. It took all of his effort to pull air into his lungs and push it back out again.

“Hey, kid! Kid!” A pair of hands shook him. “You’re on fire!”

Instinctively, Castiel rolled, slapping at the flames eating away at his sweatshirt. He hissed as he felt it burning his skin. Finally, the fire died out with a sizzle and Castiel jumped to his feet.

A man with a ragged beard and dirty, tattered clothes stared at him with wide eyes. “You okay, kid?”

“I’m—” Castiel started, but something slammed into him before he could finish the sentence. He flew backwards, hitting the side of the building again. Someone was running toward him and Castiel saw the glint of a knife before he jumped into the air, flipping over the person’s head and slamming his feet into their shoulders. The woman went down with a cry. Castiel landed on his feet and spun to face his assailant again, but she was quick. She lunged forward, swiping wildly with her knife. Castiel leapt out of the way, feeling the blade slice through his singed sweatshirt, missing skin by millimeters. Out of balance, the woman stumbled and Castiel slammed his foot into her nose. She fell again, staying down this time, blood gushing from her face.

Breathless, Castiel staggered, almost collapsing to the pavement beside the man. Somebody’s hands were grabbing him and he was about to jump away and defend himself again, but he relaxed slightly when he saw the man with the ragged beard. The man helped him steady himself and stand up properly.

“I’m alright.” Castiel looked down at his tattered sweatshirt. “Though I’m not sure if my clothes will be.”

“Take mine,” the man said, pulling off his dirty tan trench coat.

“I couldn’t,” Castiel said. He had been homeless before and knew how precious a coat like this could be.

“Take it,” the man insisted, shoving it into Castiel’s hands. “Your friend over there looks like he could use help.”

Castiel looked over to see the boy fighting off two people at once. Relenting, he took the trench coat and pulled it on over the remains of his sweatshirt. “Thank you,” he said. He scooped up the fallen knife from the woman who had attacked him and pushed himself into the air.

He descended upon the attackers like a hurricane, slashing and punching with all his strength. One of the men fell back, bleeding from a gash across his face, but the other caught Castiel’s arm in a crushing grip and threw him to the ground.

“Hello again,” Alistair leered.

He reached out and Castiel prepared himself for that draining helpless. But before Alistair could touch him, Castiel’s eyes were filled with white. He turned his head to see the boy pushing out a force field around the two of them. At the same moment, the ground a foot away from them exploded, sending Alistair flying backward. The force field disappeared and the boy stumbled, grabbing Castiel’s shoulder for support.

“Someone can make explosions,” he gasped. As he spoke, another explosion from within the nightclub rocked the ground, sending debris flying and filling the air with new screams.

“They’re inside,” Castiel said. “We’ve got to get everyone out of there.”

They ran toward the club, but the door had been blocked with rubble. A few people were trying to climb from the burning hole in the front with little success.

“Clear the door,” Castiel instructed. “I’ll start flying people out.”

He shot through the fiery hole and grabbed the first two people he saw. Ignoring their screams, he lifted them into the air and flew back outside, dropping them onto the pavement. Back in and out again, carrying people in twos, trying to block out the sounds of screams and sobbing. Glancing over, he saw the boy clearing out the last of the rubble from the doorway, letting a stream of people flood out onto the street. He lost track of how many people he carried outside, but finally when he flew back inside, there was no one left. He landed, exhausted, just inside the club. He looked over and met the boy’s eyes.

Then the ceiling above him burst into flames, sending wreckage raining down on him. He dove aside, barely avoiding being crushed by a falling beam. As the boy ran toward him, the floor between them exploded, sending him flying backwards. Castiel spotted a figure emerging from the darkness of the burning club. The woman had a red cloth tied over her mouth, just like the men before. Castiel shot toward her, dodging the blast that exploded in the air behind him and crashing into her, bringing them both to the ground. As soon as he got to his feet, the boy was there as well. They stood over the woman, who glowered up at them.

“Why are you doing this?” the boy demanded.

“Listen,” Castiel said, cocking his head. Police sirens began to drown out the screams outside. The woman’s eyes widened at the sound.

“It’s over,” the boy said to her.

The woman pulled the bandana from her mouth. “Long live the Queen,” she hissed.

The air turned into fire and heat and Castiel closed his eyes, sure he was about to be blown apart. Instead, he felt a grip on his arm and a white glow from behind his eyelids. When he opened his eyes, the nightclub was nothing but the charred skeleton of a building. He and the boy were surrounded by burning remains, the only things untouched in at least a twenty-foot radius. All that was left of the woman was the blackened shape of a body lying at their feet.

“Come out here with your hands up!” a voice behind them shouted. Without turning to look, Castiel grabbed the boy and shot upwards through the remains of the roof. He flew as fast as he could away from the scene, not even allowing himself to think, until he finally came to a stop on top of a rooftop a half a mile away. He set the boy down and landed himself, stumbling a few steps before collapsing onto his back.

Lying still, he suddenly became all too aware of every scrape and bruise and burn on his body. His back and arms were singed and his left shoulder ached horribly. Bruises were beginning to bloom all over his skin and his ears were still ringing from the sounds of explosions.

“Owwwww,” the boy groaned, summing up what Castiel was feeling very concisely.

Wincing, Castiel managed to sit up. “Are you alright?”

“Never better.” The boy rolled up his sleeves and examined the cuts crisscrossing his arms. “One of the guys had a switchblade. Not cool.” He looked up. “What about you?”

“I’ll live.” Castiel gently probed his shoulder and hissed in pain. “I think it’s dislocated.”

“Damn, I wish I had healing spit or something,” the boy sighed. “Come here, I’ll pop it back in place.”

Castiel moved toward the boy, who braced one hand against Castiel’s back.

“Have you done this before?” Castiel asked.

“Nah, but I saw someone do it in a movie once. Okay, on three. One…two…” On two, the boy pushed hard against Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel cried out, feeling a pop. The boy sat back, and Castiel flexed his arm. It was still sore but no longer dislocated.

“Thanks,” he said. “I think.”

“I like the coat,” the boy said. Castiel looked down in surprise; he had completely forgotten about the trench coat.

“I’ve got to give it back!” He started to stand back up.

“Hang on, that place is probably crawling with police by now.” The boy grabbed Castiel’s sleeve, stopping him. “You can go back another time, but not tonight.”

“You’re right.” Castiel sat back down, deflated.

“So what was that all about?” the boy wondered. “Alistair was there and he works for Crowley, right? But there were also those red bandana people again. And what’s with this ‘long live the Queen’?”

Castiel was quiet for a few moments. “I’ve heard of someone they call the Queen,” he said slowly. “Everyone said she died. But if she’s back, that’s not good.”

“Who is she?”

“Her name is Abaddon. She ruled the criminal world before Crowley came along. If she’s returned, she might be trying to get control back from him.”

The boy groaned. “Great, just what we need, two supervillains to take down. Maybe if we’re lucky they’ll take each other out and save us some work.”

“Not if tonight’s any indication,” Castiel said grimly. “It looks like a fight broke out between some of their people, which means they aren’t afraid to let innocent people get hurt in the crossfire. In fact, it almost seemed like they wanted innocent people to get hurt.”

“Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us,” the boy sighed. “Do you hear anything else out there? I hope not; I’m exhausted.”

Castiel listened, but the only unusual thing he heard was from the aftermath of the attack at the club. He shook his head, relieved. “We should get some rest. The city isn’t going to save itself.”


	6. Chapter 6

The first thing Castiel saw when he left his bedroom the next morning was a newspaper on the kitchen table. The headline read “Gifteds Appear at Nightclub Attack” and below it was a grainy photograph. Castiel almost didn’t recognize the figure in the grimy trench coat, rising into the air with arms outstretched and head tilted upward, a silver blade glinting in its hand, looking for all the world like an avenging angel.

“Crazy, isn’t it?” Jody appeared, sipping from a coffee mug that read _#1 Mom_. “Superheroes in Lebanon.”

Castiel grabbed the paper and scanned the article, which reported the tale of the attack at the nightclub and the two young Gifteds that had appeared to carry people to safety and fight back the attackers. His stomach dropped as he read that sixteen people had died and many more had been injured in the explosions and gunfire. At the end of the article, he read, _“Mayor Novak has not commented on this incident, though she is expected to later today.”_ Castiel dropped the paper as if it had burned him.

“Everyone at the station is freaking out about this,” Jody said calmly. “Thankfully, it’s not my area, so I don’t need to worry so much about it.”

Remembering that Jody was a cop, Castiel self-consciously tugged at his collar, which barely covered the dark bruise covering most of his back. “Crazy,” he said weakly.

At school, everyone had already heard the news and could not stop talking about it. It seemed like the entire school felt a sense of possession toward the two Gifteds. A sense of triumph permeated the mood, especially in those that had maintained the entire time that the two were heroes, not villains. Castiel kept his head down, carefully pulling his sleeves over his burned hands whenever the topic came up near him.

At lunch, the conversation was no less animated. “Do you hear what they’re calling them?” Sam asked excitedly.

“What do you mean?” Kevin said.

“Every superhero needs a good name,” Sam said. “Someone’s already come up with them.” Castiel turned toward him curiously. Sam leaned forward dramatically, enjoying the attention of everyone at the table. “Nighthunter and Angel Blade.”

“Angel Blade?” Castiel repeated skeptically.

“Aren’t they cool?” Dean said cheerfully. “I’m just disappointed I didn’t come up with those names myself.”

Castiel snorted but said nothing more.

The names had spread everywhere by the next day. The Gifteds were even called by those names in the morning paper. The blurry photograph was everywhere and Castiel was relieved that his face was not at all visible in it. An even blurrier photograph of the other boy – Nighthunter, Castiel supposed – surfaced in the paper. It was barely more than a dark shape with the remains of a force field dissipating around it, but it spread like fire. Everyone wanted to know about the heroes that had fought off the attackers.

Still, the more Castiel heard, the more annoyed he got. All anyone seemed to care about was the Gifteds, not the sixteen victims of the attack. Dozens more people were still in the hospital but they were always reduced to a few sentences at the end of articles or not mentioned at all. Guilt gnawed at Castiel’s stomach; he couldn’t shake the feeling that if he had been faster or stronger, he could have saved more people.

Two nights after the attack, he went out again. He found the boy at the usual corner, holding a copy of that day’s newspaper, which had the two photographs side by side on the front cover.

“Hey there, Angel Blade,” he called out as Castiel landed. “What do you think of our new names?”

“At least yours sounds cool,” Castiel grumbled. “Nighthunter. Who thought Angel Blade would be a good idea?”

“I like it.” There was a grin in his voice. “But I think I still prefer Feathers.”

“Of course you do,” Castiel muttered. “I’m getting sick of hearing about it, anyways.”

“You don’t like the attention? Why am I not surprised?”

“It’s not that,” Castiel said. “Everyone is focusing on us, but there are sixteen people that died and more in the hospital that got really hurt. And most of the people that did this are still out there. But all anyone cares about is our names.”

The smile slipped from Nighthunter’s face. “Okay, you’re right.”

“We need to find out what’s going on,” Castiel said.

“Sure. Why don’t you start by telling me everything you know about this Crowley guy?”

Castiel shuddered a little and nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”

They walked along the empty streets aimlessly as Castiel talked.

“He’s certainly one of the most powerful Gifteds I’ve ever heard of. He has this ability to make people do things, even things they don’t want to do, just by talking to them. That’s how he’s gotten so powerful; nobody can resist him.”

“But you did.”

“No, I ran away. That’s different. I was afraid of him and the things he was having me do. But you have to understand – he didn’t force me to do those things. I did them because I thought I didn’t have a choice.”

“You don’t have to talk about the things you did,” Nighthunter said quietly.

Castiel took a deep breath. “Crowley has a powerful influence, whether or not he’s using his powers. I think that’s why all the criminals flock to him; they’re afraid not to. I only met the man twice. He’s not very big but he has this…presence. He’s always wearing dark suits and he has this accent.”

“Sounds very Kilgrave.”

“What?”

“Never mind. So where does this guy live? How can we find him?”

“Wh – you can’t be considering hunting him down!”

“Well, what do you suggest? How else are we going to take him out?”

“I never said anything about taking him out!”

Nighthunter was frowning. “Are you serious? You saw what this guy did the other night and you want him to just get away with it?”

“It’s not that simple!” Castiel protested. “There are other factors at work here.”

“Listen, I get that this guy is a dark spot from your past that you don’t want to come face to face with—”

“That’s not what this is about!” Castiel interrupted angrily. “If it’s true that Abaddon is back, we can’t let her take over from Crowley. I’ve heard stories about what it was like when she was in control and…” He shuddered. “We don’t want that. At least Crowley is reliable.”

“Reliable?” Nighthunter repeated skeptically.

“We know how he’s going to act. We have a better chance of protecting the city if it’s him running the criminal world. If we take him out, we leave the city open to be taken by Abaddon.”

“I don’t know.” Nighthunter sounded uncertain. “Why can’t we just take them both out?”

“Okay, fine, that can be a long term goal. But it’s not realistic right now. Crowley has deep roots in this city, probably even deeper than I know about. He has influence over some very powerful people. We can’t just blindly throw ourselves into taking him down without considering the consequences.”

“The consequences would be that innocent people wouldn’t be getting hurt!” Nighthunter exclaimed, sounding irritated for the first time. “But fine. Fine. We’ll hold off on Crowley since you two are best friends.”

Castiel stopped walking, feeling as if he had been punched in the ribs. Nighthunter immediately stopped as well, his eyes wide behind his mask.

“I didn’t mean it like that! Feathers, I swear I didn’t—”

“Forget about it,” Castiel mumbled, looking down at the ground. Neither of them spoke for a long moment.

“How’s your shoulder?” Nighthunter asked at last, and Castiel thought he heard a bit of a peace offering in the question.

“It’s better,” Castiel said, rolling his left shoulder, which had gone from sensitive to aching to dully sore in the two days since it had been dislocated. “And how are you?”

“I’m healing.”

“Good.” After another long pause, Castiel said, “I don’t think there’s going to be much we can do tonight. And we could both use more rest. Maybe it’s best if we call it a night.”

“I think you’re right,” Nighthunter said, sounding a bit relieved. “We can both think about this and try to come up with options. Okay?”

“Okay.” Castiel floated a few feet into the air. “Until next time, Nighthunter.”

He grinned. “Bye-bye, Angel Blade.”

 

* * *

 

 

Dean stopped Castiel in the hallway after first period the next morning to tell him that their next tutoring session was that afternoon. “Can we cut it a little short today?” Dean asked. “I have somewhere I gotta go right after.”

“Of course,” Castiel said, remembering with a jolt that he had read barely ten pages of the book since their last session. The rest of the class had already finished it.

“Thanks man!” Dean called, disappearing into the stream of students in the hallway.

Castiel skipped his fourth and fifth periods, holing himself in bathroom stall with his copy of _Slaughterhouse Five_. Reading quickly, he was able to get almost another hundred pages in. He discovered that he actually liked the book when he put the effort in and he was beginning to understand Dean’s excitement whenever he talked about it.

When he got to the library after school, he didn’t see Dean or even Sam anywhere. He chose a table and sat down. Before he was even finished taking his book out, though, the library door flew open and Dean rushed in.

“Hi,” Dean said, out of breath, dropping into the chair beside Castiel. “I’m here.”

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said. “What’s the rush?”

“Nothing. Just got a lot going on right now and I feel like I’m running all over the place.” Dean ran a hand over his face. “Sorry that I have to cut this short today. I have to get to the hospital.”

“The hospital?” Castiel repeated, alarmed. “Is everything alright?”

“Oh, yeah,” Dean said quickly. “I’m doing another article for the school paper and some of the victims from that attack at the nightclub agreed to interview with me.”

“You’re doing an article on the victims?” Castiel said.

“Yep. All the attention is focused on those Gifteds, but there were a lot of people that got hurt. I guess I wanted to hear about them for a change.”

“That’s…a very nice idea,” Castiel said quietly, looking down at his hands.

“So I can’t give you a ride home today because of that, sorry. You could text Charlie to come pick you up.”

“Yeah…maybe.”

“Okay.” Dean took a breath. “Let’s get back to studying. Have you read much more?”

“Yes, I have!” Castiel said, more eagerly than he had meant to. He immediately flushed when Dean grinned at him.

“Okay, then. Let’s see what you’ve got. Chuck’s got us talking about themes a lot, so what’s one major theme that you’ve noticed?”

“Um.” Castiel racked his brain to remember what he had read during his skipped classes. “I think…they talk a lot about free will.”

Dean’s face lit up. “You have been reading!”

Castiel found himself smiling a little at the look on Dean’s face. “You really enjoy this. Is this what you want to do with your life? Reading and writing?”

Dean shrugged. “It’s what I’m good at. And it makes me happy.” He said it with such assured confidence that Castiel couldn’t help but feel jealous. “What about you? What do you want to do?”

Castiel looked down at his open book. “I don’t know. I haven’t had many opportunities to think about it.”

“Find what makes you happy and stick with that. And you have the _free will_ to choose, don’t you?” Dean tapped Castiel’s book. “Okay, tell me more about that theme.”

 

* * *

 

 

When they were finished, Castiel and Dean walked out to the parking lot together. Castiel was about to bid Dean farewell and start in the direction of Jody’s house, but he noticed a car parked beside Dean’s with a familiar, redheaded figure leaning out the window and waving.

“I figured you wouldn’t want to bother Charlie or whatever, so I texted her for you,” Dean said. When Castiel opened his mouth, he quickly added, “No need to thank me. I gotta run. See you, man.”

He hurried toward his car as Castiel made his way more slowly toward Charlie. When he climbed into the passenger seat, she greeted him with a cheerful, “Heya, Cas!”

“Thanks for coming,” Castiel said. “You didn’t have to.”

“It’s not a problem!”

“I didn’t know you had a car.”

“It’s Jody’s. She lets us borrow it. I’m sure you could too if you pass the Jody Driving Test.”

Castiel didn’t speak much for the first part of the ride home, wrapped up in his own thoughts. He couldn’t forget the things that Dean had said about finding what made him happy. _You have the free will to choose._ What a terrifying thought. Until a few months ago, he hadn’t been able to choose anything for himself. Now that he did, what was he going to do with that? He couldn’t even imagine a life without trying to hide from his family. Right now, that and saving people by night were the only things he could think about.

“So how’s the tutoring going?” Charlie asked at last, tearing Castiel away from his thoughts.

“It’s…fine,” he said distractedly.

“Dean’s a bit of a hypocrite. He teases Sam and everyone about being nerdy but with this stuff he totally geeks out.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Charlie was quiet for a few seconds. Then she sighed. “Look, Cas, I’m really trying here, but I don’t know how to get through to you. I want to be your friend and make you feel welcome but you never respond to anything. I don’t know what else to do, so if you want me to stop trying just tell me.”

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said softly, looking down at his lap. “I just…I feel like I don’t deserve any of this.”

“Deserve what?”

“These people…caring about me, wanting me to feel at home.” His throat suddenly felt tight and he looked away out the window at the passing houses. “I’ve never had that before.” He took a breath. “Back home, my father wasn’t around and my mother wasn’t the most affectionate. She cared more about her image than anything else, and she…she used me. My brothers were too much like her to care about me at all. So I’ve never felt like I was allowed to have people who loved me and cared about me.”

Charlie didn’t speak and Castiel looked over, worried that he had said something wrong. Instead, she was staring straight ahead, her chin wobbling and tears running down her cheeks. She pulled the car over to the side of the road and as soon as it was stopped, grabbed Castiel into a tight, awkwardly angled hug. Unsure of what to do, Castiel lifted his arms to pat her back.

When Charlie let go after a few minutes of sniffling onto Castiel’s shoulder, she wiped at her nose. “After my parents died, I didn’t talk to anyone for two months. I know right? Can you even imagine? Jody took me in but I shut myself out. I didn’t want anyone to take my parents’ place. But Jody stuck with me and eventually I was able to open up again.” She squeezed Castiel’s hand and gave him a teary smile. “I think I understand you better now, Cas. I’m glad you told me those things. You deserve to be loved, but I get that you don’t feel that way now. You can take your time and when you’re ready, we’ll be here for you.”

Castiel’s throat closed up and he gave a little cough, ducking his head to hide the moisture in his eyes. “Thank you. I, erm…thank you.”

Charlie let go of his hand and pulled the car away from the curb, taking them the rest of the way home.


	7. Chapter 7

Castiel and Nighthunter spent the next few nights flying around the city, searching for trouble and information on either Crowley or Abaddon. They didn’t talk about what they would do if they happened to find them and they avoided mentioning their disagreement the other night. There wasn’t much to do; they stopped a few break-ins and robberies but none of the would-be thieves knew anything about the crime lords. At one point, they thought they spotted someone in the red bandana of Abaddon’s crew trying to get into a locked building, but when Castiel swooped lower they saw that it was just a woman in a red scarf who couldn’t figure out which key went into the lock.

Somehow, a new photograph of the two of them surfaced in the newspaper. It was just as blurry as the other ones, obviously shot through the window of a building, showing Castiel and Nighthunter flying low through the street. Castiel hadn’t heard or seen anyone taking this picture and he resolved to keep a closer eye out for these things and to be sure that the cloth was always secure over his face.

He wondered what his mother thought of all of the news about him. There was no way she could have missed it and she had to know it was him. Castiel doubted she was very happy about this. He couldn’t help but think about what would happen if she came looking for him. The thought made his stomach twist into knots.

Dean’s article about the victims of the attack appeared in the newspaper the following Monday. That day, he ran up to Charlie and Castiel on their way to the bus after school, his face alight.

“You’ll never guess what happened,” he said. A copy of the school newspaper was clutched in his hand.

“What’s up?” Charlie asked.

“The Lebanon Times – yes, that Lebanon Times – wants to print my article!”

“No way!”

Dean beamed. “They said they like the fresh new perspective. And they like my style. My style! That’s, like, the best compliment a writer can get!”

“Congrats,” Castiel said, happy that the news seemed to finally be moving away from Nighthunter and Angel Blade.

“This is amazing.” Dean seemed almost dazed. “People all over the city are going to read my article. I’ve gotta go home and tell Mom!”

He ran away as quickly as he’d come. Charlie grinned fondly after him. “Dean, you nerd.” She clapped Castiel’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s get to our bus.”

On the ride home, Castiel pulled out his copy of _Slaughterhouse Five_. Charlie didn’t seem to see that as a deterrent for conversation.

“Dean’s got you working hard on that, huh? Are you almost done?”

Castiel held up the book without looking away from it to show her that he had fewer than twenty pages left. Of course, the rest of the class had finished it by now and were well on their ways through their essays. But at least Castiel was doing the work.

“How are the other classes going?” Charlie asked.

“Um…” He couldn’t remember the last time he had turned in a completed assignment. Most of his work was done sleepily on the bus on the way to school or in his room after school, while he struggled not to fall asleep. Leading a double life was taking its toll on him and his grades. Most of his teachers had been lenient for his first week or so, but he knew that they were beginning to lose their patience.

“Well hey, we can’t all have straight A’s like Kevin here.” Charlie ruffled Kevin’s hair in the seat in front of her and he turned back to scowl at her.

 

* * *

 

 

Castiel was still in his bedroom that night when he heard the scream. It came from nearly a mile away, but to Castiel it sounded like it could have been right outside the house. Throwing on his trench coat and hastily tying the cloth over his face, he scrambled toward the window and pushed it open, wriggling through. By the time he was in the air, he could hear gunshots.

 _Faster_. Tears tore from his eyes as he shot through the sky like an arrow. More screams filled the air and he gritted his teeth. _Faster._ He couldn’t see; the city ahead of him was a blur of lights and shapes. Voices shouted to each other and a new round of gunfire filled his ears. _Faster!_ Relying only on the direction of sound, he swerved around buildings. He was so close…

But by the time he reached the scene, it was silent. He hovered overhead, looking down at the unmarked black truck, its back doors swinging open. A body lay in the street beside it, surrounded by a pool of blood, and another was slumped over the driver’s seat.

As soon as Castiel landed, he heard running footsteps behind him. He spun around but it was only Nighthunter rounding the corner, out of breath.

“What happened?” he demanded. “Did you see what happened?”

“No,” Castiel said numbly. “I just got here.”

“Dammit.” Nighthunter bent over, bracing his hands on his knees and dropping his head.

“We were too late,” Castiel murmured.

Nighthunter turned and slammed his fist into the side of the building next to him. The brick cracked and shards of it flew in all directions. Nighthunter’s bleeding hand fell back to his side but he hardly seemed to notice.

Castiel’s eye caught sight of movement from across the street. A man and a woman, clearly homeless, peered out at them from a dark alleyway. Castiel ran toward them.

“Did you see what happened?” he asked as the two retreated uneasily. “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“You’re the two Gifteds everyone’s been talking about,” the woman said. “Angel Blade and Nighthunter.”

“Yes, we are. Please, can you tell me what happened here?”

“A couple of people came from that street over there.” The woman pointed. “One of them shot the truck driver. The other one got out to stop them, but they shot her too. Then they opened the truck and emptied out the boxes. There were only a couple – big, wooden things. They loaded them into their own truck and drove away.”

“Who were these people?” Castiel demanded.

“I – I don’t know,” the woman said helplessly.

“Anything you can tell me about them – the license plate number, how many of them there were…”

“There were…four, I think. And they were all wearing red bandanas over their faces. Kinda like yours.”

Castiel looked back at Nighthunter, who had walked up behind him. He nodded. “Abaddon.”

“Which way did they go?” Castiel asked.

“That way,” the woman said, pointing down the street. Nighthunter walked back toward the truck, looking inside its empty back.

“Thank you,” Castiel said, starting to turn away from the pair.

“You’ve still got Clarence’s coat,” the woman said.

“Wha – oh.” Castiel looked down at the dirty trench coat. “Clarence, that’s his name? I never meant to keep it. Could you return it to him?”

He started to take the coat off but the woman laid a hand on his arm, smiling. “He wants you to keep it. He likes that it’s being used by a real-life superhero. Won’t shut up about it.”

Castiel hesitated, but the woman nodded to him. Slowly, he put the coat back on. “Tell him thank you from me.”

Back at the truck, Nighthunter stood over the body in the street. Castiel walked over to join him and when Nighthunter looked up Castiel was shocked to see tears shining in his eyes.

“We weren’t fast enough.”

Castiel reached out and touched Nighthunter’s shoulder. The boy was trembling, staring down at the body at their feet. The woman couldn’t have been more than a few years older than them. She laid facedown, her green cap askew from her fall. A single bullet wound in her back stained her uniform a dark red and her curly hair was matted with blood. Castiel’s stomach lurched.

“We should’ve been here,” Nighthunter said, his voice full of bitterness.

“We can’t do everything,” Castiel murmured.

Nighthunter shrugged his hand away, walking a few steps further to look into the cab of the truck, where the driver lay dead as well. This was an older man, a little paunchy around the middle. His bullet wound was in his head. Castiel was glad that the face was turned away from them; he wasn’t sure if he would ever get that image out of his head if he saw what was left.

“We’ve got to find them,” Nighthunter said. “We can’t keep flying around hoping to get lucky and stop a few criminals. If we keep ignoring the root of the problem, it’ll only get worse.”

Castiel frowned. “That’s easy enough to say. How do you propose we do it?”

“I don’t know.” Nighthunter’s hands clenched into fists and Castiel worried he was going to start hitting things again. “But we’re not doing enough. We’re only skimming the surface, saving a few people here and there but not doing any real good.”

“We’re doing our best!”

“But what if it’s not enough!” Nighthunter exclaimed. “We’re all this city’s got right now. What if we decide that we’ve tried hard enough but we still fail and people still get hurt?”

“We can’t think like that,” Castiel said quietly. “We can’t do that to ourselves. You know we can’t save everyone, but we do our best. That has to be enough.”

“And what if it’s not?” Nighthunter’s voice shook.

“It has to be,” Castiel insisted.

“But it’s not!” Nighthunter exploded, turning to Castiel with blazing eyes. “These people are dead because we couldn’t get here fast enough! I failed them like I’ve failed everything else. It’s not enough that we do our best. No matter what we do, it’s never going to be enough!”

Instead of speaking, Castiel reached forward and pulled the boy into a rough embrace. Nighthunter froze in surprise, but when Castiel didn’t let go, he dropped his head onto Castiel’s shoulder.

“We can’t save these people,” Castiel murmured. “But you haven’t failed them as long as you keep doing what you’re doing. We can’t be responsible for every life in this city, but if we can help some people, that still means something. That’s what you have to remember.”

Slowly, Nighthunter’s ragged breathing evened out. Castiel held him, afraid of what letting go would mean. But when Nighthunter finally pulled back, his eyes were hard.

“We have to find out where they took those boxes,” he said.

“They said the truck went this way.” Castiel pointed down the street. “Give me a moment.”

He closed his eyes, listening. It was difficult to pinpoint anything specific among all the traffic sounds, but there weren’t many trucks out at such a late hour in this part of the city. Soon, he heard the low rumble of a truck engine and, he thought, the rattle of wooden crates inside of it.

“I think I found it. Are you ready?”

Nighthunter nodded resolutely. Castiel lifted them both into the air and shot in the direction of the truck.

It had a good head start but Castiel wasn’t slowed by streets or traffic laws. He flew over the buildings, keeping his ears focused on the truck’s sounds as they grew louder and closer.

He spotted the truck as it drove into the warehouse district. The two of them flew lower and Castiel landed on the edge of a rooftop as the truck stopped in front of an unmarked warehouse. Four people wearing red bandanas climbed out, opening up the back of the truck and pulling three wooden crates. From this distance, Castiel couldn’t begin to guess what was inside them. The people and the crates disappeared into the warehouse.

“We have to get down there,” Nighthunter said.

“Hang on. We can’t just go running in there without a plan.”

“They killed two people!”

“Exactly, they killed two people. They’re dangerous, and we don’t know how many more of them could be inside that warehouse. We have to be careful.”

Nighthunter huffed out a breath. “Fine. What’s your plan?”

“See that window down there?” Castiel pointed to a narrow windowpane right below the warehouse’s flat roof. “I’ll fly down there and see what I can inside. Then we’ll take it from there.”

Nighthunter didn’t look particularly happy about this but he nodded, so Castiel leapt from the roof and flew down. Hovering level with the window, he peered through the grimy glass.

The warehouse was dimly lit from the inside. It was mostly empty besides a few stacks of wooden crates in one corner similar to the ones stolen from the truck. The new crates were being added to the pile by the four people and a number of others wearing Abaddon’s red bandanas. Castiel squinted, counting the crates. There were eleven, including the three new ones.

As Castiel watched, the group of people started moving around the piles of crates. Trying to listen, Castiel caught one of them saying something about going downstairs, and then they disappeared behind the stacks. Castiel hovered for a moment, waiting for them to reappear, with no luck. Then he swooped away to return to the rooftop where Nighthunter waited.

“What was in there?” Nighthunter asked immediately.

Castiel explained what he had seen. “There must be a basement area underneath that they all went to. If we want to see what’s in those crates, we should go now.”

Nighthunter looked surprised. “You want to see what’s in the crates?”

“Of course I want to see what’s in the crates. Two people died for whatever it is. We need to know.”

“No, I know. I’m just thought it went against your ‘don’t rush in there without a plan’ philosophy.”

“We have a plan. We’re going to break into the warehouse and see what’s in those crates.”

Nighthunter rolled his eyes.

Castiel brought them to the ground next to the door, then paused for a moment to listen. He heard nothing on the other side, so Nighthunter broke the lock off the door and swung it open. They stepped inside.

The warehouse smelled of dust and mold. It felt too big in its emptiness. Castiel started toward the only filled corner, stopping in front of one of the crates. Nighthunter knocked his knuckle against the rough wood.

“Want me to break it open?”

“That’ll be too loud.” Castiel could hear movement below them.

“I’m gonna break it open.” Before Castiel could stop him, Nighthunter seized one of the boards on the top of the crate and ripped it away effortlessly in a screech of wood and nails. Castiel cringed and they both froze.

“Anyone coming?” Nighthunter whispered. Castiel shook his head. The boy pulled off another two boards and they both leaned over the top of the crate.

“Sawdust,” Castiel said.

“That can’t be it.” Nighthunter reached into the crate and felt around in the sawdust. “Ah, here we go.”

He unearthed a long, black rifle from the sawdust and Castiel took an instinctive step backward.

“I don’t know what I expected,” Nighthunter sighed. “Okay, eleven boxes of weapons. That’s a lot for Abaddon to have. I can’t imagine she’s planning to do anything good with all of this.”

Castiel paused, cocking his head.

“What do you hear?”

“They’re coming back up the stairs,” Castiel said. “They must have heard you open the crate. I told you not to break it open!”

“There’s no quiet way to open those things!” Nighthunter protested.

“Shh!” Castiel grabbed his arm and pulled around the opposite side of the piles of crates, where they were hidden from view of the stairs. He listened to the group of Abaddon’s people climb up, talking among themselves.

“I swear I heard something,” one said. Then, “Hey, look! One of these has been opened!”

“Sure we didn’t do that ourselves?”

“We didn’t open any of them!”

They started moving around the pile of crates, Castiel and Nighthunter moving away in the opposite direction.

“We should go down the stairs,” Nighthunter whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. Castiel nodded. As the group moved to the opposite side of the pile, still arguing whether or not they had opened the crate themselves, Castiel and Nighthunter crept down the stairs into the dark basement below.

At the base of the stairs, they paused, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the dimness. The only light was a softly glowing bulb in the center of the room. At first, all Castiel could see was large, indistinct shapes. But as he stepped forward and his eyes got used to the lighting, they became clearer. The basement was filled with rows and rows of wooden crates like the ones upstairs, stacked on top of each other in numbers that Castiel couldn’t even begin to count. His stomach sank downward.

“Shit,” Nighthunter breathed.

“That’s a lot of guns,” Castiel said.

They moved forward through the rows of crates. Castiel’s mouth felt dry.

“Where is she getting all of this?” Nighthunter wondered. “And what does she want it for?”

“She wants to overthrow Crowley, remember? But surely she can’t have enough people on her side to arm with these.”

“I think we’ve stepped into a bigger conflict than we realized.”

A loud sound came from upstairs, and Castiel’s head whipped around. “We should go. We don’t want anyone to find us here when they have so many guns.”

They started back the way they came, heading toward the rectangle of light that led up the stairs. They were only a few paces away when a figure stepped in front of the light, blocking their path. Castiel froze, grabbing Nighthunter’s arm.

The woman was tall with hair the color of fire. She wore a black leather jacket, a t-shirt reading “The Devil made me do it”, and a smirk on her red lips.

“I’ve been wondering when the two of you would pay me a visit,” she said.


	8. Chapter 8

“Abaddon?” Castiel whispered.

Her smile widened. “I was a bit offended that you didn’t come searching for me sooner. I’ve heard so much about you, of course. Especially you.” She pointed a red fingernail at Castiel. “Crowley’s little toy. Until you went rogue and started working with this one.” She stepped forward and raked her eyes over Nighthunter. “You really are gorgeous, aren’t you? I’d just love to see under that mask of yours.”

Castiel could feel Nighthunter’s tension as he took a step backward.

“What are you doing with all these weapons?” Castiel demanded.

“I think you’ve already figured that out, haven’t you?” Abaddon’s smile turned vicious. “I want Crowley gone and I’ll do whatever it takes to destroy him.”

“We’ll stop you,” Nighthunter said, but the effect was ruined when his voice shook slightly. The look on Abaddon’s face was almost pitying.

“No, I don’t think you will. You’re young and you have so much to learn. For example, never go into your enemy’s base when there’s only one exit.”

Castiel heard a step behind him and spun around. Alistair emerged from the shadows, a smile on his thin face and a red bandana tied around his upper arm.

“But you work for Crowley!” Castiel said.

“That arrogant idiot?” Alistair laughed. “No, his days are over. The Queen will crush him and I’ll be at her side when she does.”

A blur of movement out of the corner of Castiel’s eye caught his attention and he turned in time to see Nighthunter rush at Abaddon. She didn’t make a move to defend herself, and Nighthunter’s punch caught her squarely in the ribs. But it was Nighthunter who cried out and fell to the ground, clutching his hand. Abaddon just smiled and reached down to pat his cheek.

“Better luck next time, darling.”

Nighthunter struggled to his feet, gritting his teeth. His next punch hit Abaddon in the jaw, but she barely reacted.

“You’re invulnerable,” Nighthunter panted, taking a step backward.

“Well done,” Abaddon said, sounding unimpressed. “For how much I hear about you two, I thought you would be more of a challenge.”

Castiel looked between Abaddon and Alistair – one Gifted they couldn’t hurt and one they couldn’t touch. They were far outmatched, not prepared for this at all. “We need to leave,” he warned Nighthunter.

“Not yet.” Abaddon’s eyes settled predatorily on Nighthunter. “I haven’t had my turn.”

Her hand shot out, seizing Nighthunter by the throat and pushing him down to his knees. Castiel could see him struggling, but she must have had some superhuman strength ability as well. Holding him down with one hand, she seized his mask, ready to tear it away from his head.

Castiel could hear Alistair moving behind him. He launched himself into the air, flying toward Abaddon. She was too strong for him to fight, so he angled himself downward and bowled into Nighthunter instead, knocking the both of them out of Abaddon’s reach. They scrambled to their feet and Castiel took a step up the stairs, only to see more of Abaddon’s people at the top, blocking their exit. Abaddon was recovering and starting toward them again, with Alistair a step behind her.

Then Nighthunter threw himself around Castiel’s neck. “Fly upward!” he shouted.

Castiel didn’t think, launching them straight up. He closed his eyes as they crashed into the basement ceiling, but a white glow enveloped them and he felt them rising still. They broke through, debris raining all around them, and Castiel kept flying up through the warehouse until they crashed through the roof as well. Wind whistled past his ears as they rose high into the night sky. Finally, Castiel stopped, hovering hundreds of feet above the gaping hole in the warehouse roof.

They were chest to chest, wrapped in an embrace so tight that Castiel could feel his arms trembling. Neither of them moved. Finally, Nighthunter loosened his grip slightly.

“Okay,” he muttered. “So that was Abaddon.”

Castiel huffed a shaky breath.

“We are so screwed.”

 

* * *

 

 

Ten minutes later, they landed on a rooftop on the opposite side of the city. As soon as their feet touched the solid surface, Nighthunter started pacing.

“So Abaddon’s building an army,” he said. “And she’s stealing weapons to arm them with.”

“And she’s trying to bringing Crowley’s supporters over to her side, like Alistair,” Castiel added. “She’s probably aiming to get Gifteds.”

“She said she’d do whatever it takes to destroy Crowley,” Nighthunter said grimly. “And we’ve already seen what happened at that nightclub when their groups clashed. More innocent people will get hurt if we don’t stop this.” He stopped pacing. “We’re in so far over our heads.”

Castiel said nothing, but found himself agreeing internally.

“What are we supposed to do, Feathers?” Nighthunter asked, sounding genuinely desperate.

“I don’t know,” Castiel said quietly.

“We just ran away.” Nighthunter sat down on the edge of the rooftop. “There was nothing we could do against them. How are we supposed to protect this city when we can’t even fight them?”

“We’ll do what we can.”

“What if it’s not enough?”

“I meant what I said before,” Castiel said. “We’ll save as many people as we can and that has to be enough. If we can’t save everyone, we have to accept that.”

“I don’t like that.”

“Nor do I,” Castiel admitted. “But that’s the way it is.”

 

* * *

 

The next morning in first period, Castiel heard the word “Gifted” whispered between two girls near the front of the classroom. For a moment, he wondered if he was imagining it; he had barely slept the night before and the world seemed to be drifting by him in a haze today. He listened in on the quiet conversation.

“Apparently she was using it to pass her tests.”

“So she could really see into the future?”

“Yep.”

“If I was Gifted, I’d do more than cheat on tests!”

The girls giggled until Mr. Shurley silenced them. Castiel suddenly felt much more awake.

He listened for more information on the subject but only caught snatches of conversations, unable to piece together what had happened. He didn’t have to wait long; after class, Dean fell in step with him and Charlie.

“There’s a Gifted in our midst,” he said. Castiel stiffened.

“That’s what everyone’s been talking about?” Charlie asked. “Who is it?”

“Some sophomore named Ava Wilson. I guess she can see certain things in the future. She got caught cheating on a test.”

Charlie whistled. “It was only a matter of time before this happened. What do they say – about .5 percent of people are Gifted? Then if there’s about a thousand people at this school, there should be…um…”

“Five people,” Castiel finished.

“That’s right. Five Gifteds at this school! It could be anyone! It could be that person right there!” She gestured to a random passing student. “It could be – I don’t know – Garth!”

Dean snorted. “Or it could be you, Charlie!” He elbowed her in the ribs.

“I wish.” She sighed almost wistfully. “Trust me, Dean, if I was Gifted, you would be the first person I’d tell.”

Everybody seemed to have forgotten about Nighthunter and Angel Blade. The only thing they cared about now was Ava Wilson and her newly discovered powers. Castiel still had no idea who she was but he felt sorry for her. At least he and Nighthunter had the shield of anonymity; she no doubt had to deal with people face to face.

People had apparently come to the same conclusion that Charlie had, realizing that anyone around them could be Gifted without their knowledge. It seemed as if everyone was now on the lookout for signs. Castiel kept his head down even more than usual, afraid that the slightest slip might give him away.

At lunch, the conversation was no less animated. Ash and Garth debated about what the best superpower would be, while Kevin and Sam discussed the odds of certain classmates being Gifted. In the seat next to Castiel, Dean looked bored.

“Jeez, people are making this into an even bigger deal than when I came out as bi,” he muttered. “And I thought _that_ was a big deal.”

Castiel tucked this new piece of information about Dean away. “I suppose that’s because people know how to react to that,” he said. “Sexual orientation is something they can understand, whereas Gifteds seem like a completely different world that they can’t comprehend.”

“But the whole school has been obsessing about Nighthunter and Angel Blade for weeks!” Dean protested. “Are you telling me that nobody stopped for a minute to think about the possibility that some of their classmates could have those kinds of powers?”

“Well, did you?”

Dean frowned. “Of course I did. It’s not like Gifteds are a foreign concept.”

“Does that mean you know a Gifted?” Castiel couldn’t stop the question from slipping out and he almost immediately regretted it. Dean’s face went strangely blank, as if he was trying very hard not to let some expression slip.

“I…I do, actually,” Dean said. “Do you?”

Castiel’s stomach flipped over. He looked down at his hands as he lied. “No, I don’t.”

“Dean’s just jealous that people aren’t paying as much attention to him anymore,” Sam said teasingly. Dean shoved his shoulder and the moment of tension was gone.

The boys went on bantering, but Castiel was no longer paying attention. Watching them, he couldn’t stop himself from wondering – what would these boys say if they knew who he was by night? What would any of his classmates say if they knew that the quiet boy who sat in the back of their classes was the superhero that they all admired?

And who could Dean possibly know who was Gifted? Castiel felt as if he would know if it were anyone at this table, especially someone who lived at the Home with him. Castiel understood the closed off expression that came over Dean’s face when he asked the question and he knew he wouldn’t be pursuing the matter any further.

 

* * *

 

That Thursday was Castiel’s next tutoring session with Dean. During Mr. Shurley’s class that morning, Dean asked him if they could do it at his house instead of the library.

“I’m supposed to drop Sam at the dentist after school, so I figured it would be easier to head to my place after instead of going all the way back to the school. I can give you a ride. And my mom will probably have something good to eat.”

“Sure,” Castiel said, trying to sound casual although his insides were squirming. He had never gone to someone’s house after school. It seemed like such a _normal_ kid thing to do. How should he act? Sure, this was for tutoring, not just hanging out. The thought of it still made his brain go numb.

He couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the day. He was sure that hadn’t been Dean’s intent; after all, Dean was supposed to be _helping_ him with academics, not hindering him. Nonetheless, he found himself frustrated at Dean for distracting him so much.

After school, he waited outside by the parking lot for Dean to come. Charlie and the others from the Home passed by on their way to the bus, but Castiel just waved to them. A few seconds later his phone buzzed with a text from Charlie that read simply: _????_

 _Going to Dean’s house for tutoring_ , he texted back.

She responded: _oolala ;)_

Castiel rolled his eyes and looked up from his phone to see Dean and Sam coming toward him.

“Hey, Cas!” Dean said. “Ready to go?”

The buzz surrounding Ava Wilson the Gifted had still not died down, and Sam could talk of nothing else in the car. Apparently one of his classes had talked today about the history of the acceptance of Gifteds into society, which he felt compelled to recount to Dean and Castiel in detail. Castiel had once again been granted shotgun privilege, so when Dean glanced over at him with an exasperated but affectionate eye roll, Castiel smiled back at him and felt like an understanding of older brotherly fondness was shared between them.

They dropped Sam at the dentist office, then drove back toward Dean’s house. After Sam’s constant talking, the non-conversation in the car felt awkward to Castiel. Dean hummed along to the song on the radio, an old classic that Castiel recognized but didn’t know the words to, and after a few minutes Castiel was able to relax a little. He found himself humming along to the chorus of the song as well.

Dean heard him and caught his eye, smiling. “You like The Beatles?”

“Oh.” Castiel flushed. “I don’t know…I’ve just heard this song before.”

“Of course you have, it’s a classic!” Dean sang along quietly. “ _Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start to make it better…”_

Castiel’s stomach flip-flopped and he didn’t completely understand why. “It’s a good song,” he said dumbly, unable to think of anything more intelligent to say.

“It’s my mom’s favorite. She plays it _all the time_.”

They pulled up to Dean’s house as the song ended. It was a simple, single story house painted light blue, with a large front lawn and a white picket fence in front. Dean pressed a button inside the car and the door of the garage on the side of the house slid open.

Castiel followed Dean through a door in the garage that led into the house, where Dean toed off his shoes and called, “Mom? You here?”

“Hey, Dean,” a voice called from the other room. Dean led the way into a cozy living room where a woman with long, blonde hair and reading glasses perched on her nose sat in a well-worn armchair with a laptop and a novel. She looked over the top of her glasses at them, her blue eyes settling curiously on Castiel.

“Mom, this is Cas,” Dean said, patting Castiel on the shoulder. “He’s the new kid at Jody’s, remember? I’ve been tutoring him.”

“It’s Castiel,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Winchester.”

She smiled warmly, the corners of her eyes crinkling up in the same way that Dean’s did when he smiled. “You can call me Mary. It’s good to meet you too, Castiel.” She turned to Dean. “Did you take Sam to the dentist?”

“He’s not here, is he?” Dean started to move out of the living room. “Is there any food?”

“There might be some pie in the fridge.”

“Yes!” Dean clenched his fist gleefully. “Cas, you haven’t lived until you’ve had my mom’s pie.”

“Remember you have to pick Sam up in an hour!” Mary called after Dean as they left the room.

Castiel followed Dean into the kitchen, where Dean rummaged through the refrigerator until he pulled out a pie tin with a third of an apple pie remaining.

“Mom’s an editor for some local publishing company so she gets to work from home a lot,” Dean explained as he pulled the plastic wrap from the pie. “You want some of this, right?”

“Oh…sure.”

Dean began to distribute the remaining pie onto two separate plates. “Anyways, Mom being home is really nice for Sam and me, especially since Dad’s not around anymore.”

“Are your parents divorced?”

The knife in Dean’s hand paused. “Uh…no.” He quickly busied himself with scraping the last of the pie filling onto the plates. “My dad died a few years back.”

Castiel’s insides jolted. “Dean, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“It’s fine.” The smile was back on Dean’s face and he handed one of the plates to Castiel. “You didn’t know. Should we get this started?”

Pie in hand, they left the kitchen and went down the hall to Dean’s bedroom. It was fairly small and simply furnished, in a way that Castiel thought was very Dean. A collection of records leaned against the wall on his desk, along with a number of books (including, Castiel noted, all of Vonnegut’s novels). A wooden cross lay sideways on his windowsill. On his bedside table, Castiel found a framed photograph of a couple and two young boys, faded with age. Castiel instantly recognized Mary Winchester as the woman and when he looked more carefully he could tell that the boys were Dean and Sam. The man had dark hair and broad shoulders and the same smile as Sam.

“This is your father?” Castiel asked, picking up the frame. Dean glanced at it and nodded. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry.”

“No, I don’t mind,” Dean said. “My dad and I weren’t very close.”

“If you don’t mind my asking…how did he die?”

“He drank a lot,” Dean said quietly. “There was an accident.”

“I’m sorry.” Castiel looked down at the photograph, where the man’s arm was wrapped around little Dean’s shoulders.

“Anyway, enough about that.” Dean dropped his backpack onto his bed. “We came here to do homework, didn’t we?”

The class was supposed to be almost finished with their essays, and although Castiel had finally finished reading _Slaughterhouse Five_ , he was still far behind everyone else. Dean pulled out his laptop and Castiel pulled out the scratch paper he had been working on since he didn’t have a computer. When Dean opened his laptop, the first thing Castiel saw was a document with “ _The mystery of Nighthunter and Angel Blade”_ written in bold letters across the top.

“Is this a new article for the school newspaper?” he asked quickly.

“Yes and no.” Dean’s face broke into a wide smile. “I’ve been meaning to tell you – the _Lebanon Times_ liked my last article so much they asked me to write a new one!”

Castiel’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Yep!” Dean’s eyes shone. “It’s a special piece about these two superheroes. Of course we don’t know much about them but I’ve taken what I can get from a ton of different sources.”

Castiel leaned closer to try to read the article without being too obvious about it. His eyes immediately fell on the sentence, _“In their first notable appearance together, Nighthunter and Angel Blade prevented a powerful Gifted named Alistair from stealing from Lebanon High School.”_

Goosebumps rose on Castiel’s neck at the sight of Alistair’s name. “How did you get this information?”

“I have my ways,” Dean said mysteriously.

Castiel frowned, skipping ahead. _“Angel Blade’s signature trench coat was given to him by a homeless man during the attack on the nightclub.”_ “This is very…detailed,” Castiel said slowly.

“It took me a long time,” Dean said proudly. “I even found a lady who says she and her son were saved from a car crash by Nighthunter and Angel Blade before they stopped that break-in.”

Castiel pretended to busy himself with organizing his papers while his mind raced. Unless Dean had tracked down the very man that had given Castiel the coat, how could he have known that detail? And Alistair’s name was hardly common knowledge; in fact, this was the first time Castiel had seen it publicly stated. He doubted that even the police knew Alistair, let alone that he was involved in the break-in at the school. There was no way that Dean could have gotten all of this information through interviewing people, which left only one possibility.

Dean knew Nighthunter.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean was talking animatedly about his _Slaughterhouse Five_ essay but Castiel barely heard him. He had known this was a possibility when he figured out that Nighthunter went to the same high school as him; the odds of them knowing the same people were high. And if Dean knew him, there was a good chance Castiel knew him too.

His first thought was Sam, but that didn’t fit. Sam, though only a freshman, was taller than Nighthunter and too lanky. Besides, the way he was fascinated with Gifteds meant that he clearly wasn’t one himself. And it obviously wasn’t anyone from the Home or Castiel would have discovered it ages ago. Who else was Dean close to? Castiel racked his brain, trying to remember the random people he had seen Dean talking to in the hallway or during lunch. None of them were any more than blurry, indistinct faces in his memory.

“Are you paying attention?”

“Huh?” Castiel’s focus snapped back to the present. Dean was frowning at him. “What?”

“I asked you what your thesis statement is.”

“Oh.” Castiel shuffled through his papers quickly, trying to act normal. He cleared his throat and focused back on his essay. “Right. Thesis statement.”

Forty-five minutes later, when Mary called, “Dean! Pick up Sam!” and they packed away their homework, Castiel felt like he had barely progressed on his essay. His mind kept wandering back to the fact that the boy sitting beside him knew Nighthunter. A small part of Castiel wanted to blurt out his secret; surely if Nighthunter trusted Dean then Castiel could too. But what if Dean told Nighthunter? Castiel didn’t think he was ready for Nighthunter to know his real identity.

“Do you want a ride back to Jody’s?” Dean asked.

“Sure.” Castiel shouldered his backpack and followed Dean out of his room. Mary looked up from her laptop as they passed, smiling at Castiel. “Thanks for the pie, Mrs. Winchester,” he said.

“Mary!” she called after him as they went to the garage.

When Dean turned the car back on, the radio began playing a Taylor Swift song that even Castiel recognized. Dean gave a small laugh and began to sing along. Castiel shot him an incredulous look; he hadn’t expected this to be the sort of thing Dean would like.

“What?” Dean said, a bit defensively. “Haters gonna hate.”

It wasn’t far to Jody’s and in a few minutes Dean pulled up in front of the house and turned off the radio. Castiel reached for his backpack and the door handle.

“So what are you plans for the rest of the afternoon?” Dean asked, making Castiel pause. “I know Charlie mentioned planning her next LARPing adventure. Are you gonna join her?”

“Oh…I hadn’t planned on it. I thought I’d just…” He shrugged. “…hang out.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Hang out? Alone, in your room? Yeah, Charlie’s told me about that. When was the last time you hung out with actual people?”

“I hung out with you today!”

“Besides that.”

Castiel dropped his eyes. Truthfully, today was the first time he could remember willingly spending time with people who weren’t his siblings.

“Come on, man, you live in a house full of kids your age! If I lived somewhere like that, I’d never want to be by myself. All I’ve got is Sam and he can get pretty annoying if you spend too much time with him.”

“Maybe I prefer to be alone,” Castiel said, more sharply than he had intended, his eyes still downcast.

Dean said nothing for a few moments. When he spoke, his tone was softer, more apologetic. “Cas, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t apologize.” Castiel’s throat felt tight. Not wanting to cry in front of Dean, he turned to stare out the window at Jody’s house. He could see Charlie and Kevin through the living room window typing on their computers.

“I shouldn’t have pushed, Cas,” Dean said. “I get it, okay? You like being alone. I’ll take the hint.”

Castiel turned, confused. Dean dropped his gaze as if trying to hide the hurt look in his eyes. Castiel shook his head quickly. “That’s not what I meant. You have to understand, Dean…I’ve never had any of this. I don’t really know…what to do.”

Dean frowned. “Any of this… You mean friends?”

“No,” Castiel mumbled.

“Jeez, Cas, what about people from school?”

“I never went to a real school until this year.”

Dean’s mouth gaped. “Who even _are_ you?”

Castiel suppressed the urge to laugh at the ridiculous look. “My siblings and I were privately tutored so I never spent time with other children my age. I suppose you could say I had a sheltered childhood.”

“Sheltered is an understatement!” Dean’s eyes were wide. “So you were basically like Rapunzel in a tower!”

Castiel snorted. “I suppose you could liken it to that.”

“Well, I guess you know this only means one thing,” Dean said, suddenly looking very serious. “I’m going to have to teach you how to have friends.”

“What?”

“Obviously. I mean, I’m pretty good at teaching you stuff, and since we’re already friends it’ll be easy.”

“We’re…friends?”

“’Course we are.” Dean grinned. “Cas, when people hang out together for fun and have talks like this, it means they’re friends.”

“Oh.” Castiel ducked his head to hide the smile that stole onto his lips. “Okay.”

“And of course this means we’re gonna have to hang out more,” Dean said. He suddenly looked apprehensive. “If you’re okay with that, of course.”

“Of course.” Castiel flushed. “I mean, yes, I’m okay with that. I enjoy spending time with you.”

“Good.” Dean smiled broadly, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I enjoy spending time with you too.”

“Good.” Castiel found himself smiling back. Then he quickly looked away and fumbled with his backpack. “Don’t you have to pick Sam up?”

“Right. Oh, he’s not going to be too happy with me.” Dean grimaced at the clock on his phone. “Whoops.”

“Thanks for the ride,” Castiel said, climbing out of the car. “And the tutoring. And, well…you know.”

“Anytime, Cas. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Castiel shut the car door and waved as Dean drove away. Then he walked up the house with a smile still lingering on his lips.

 

* * *

 

 

When Castiel found Nighthunter that night, all he could think was: _he knows Dean._ Nighthunter began complaining about something as soon as Castiel landed beside him, going on about how the moon was waning which made it harder to see at night. Castiel barely heard him. He was still trying to think of people that Dean might know who could be Gifted but nobody came to mind. They were obviously good at being secretive.

Part of him wanted to know Nighthunter’s identity, but another more dominant part wanted it to remain a mystery. There was something comforting in the two parts of his life being separate. Of course there was some overlap and now that Castiel knew that Dean knew Nighthunter, the lines were even more blurred. Castiel no longer felt the same security in his secret identity as Angel Blade.

“Are you listening to me?”

“What?” Castiel said.

Nighthunter rolled his eyes. “I asked if that trench coat of yours makes flying harder.”

“Oh.” Castiel looked down at the coat in question. “No?”

Nighthunter shrugged. “I thought maybe it would drag behind you or something. Like a sail.”

“I don’t think it makes a difference.”

“Hmmm.” Nighthunter shook his arms out. “Ugh, is there anything interesting going on out there? I’m bored.”

Castiel had noticed that ever since their run-in with Abaddon, Nighthunter was itching for action. At even the smallest sign of trouble, he practically jumped to get involved. Castiel knew it had to do with his feeling that they weren’t doing enough to stop Abaddon and Crowley, but since they hadn’t found much to do in the past few nights, his wish for action hadn’t been satisfied.

“It’s all quiet out there,” Castiel said, and Nighthunter groaned. Castiel eyed him. He was a bit worried; Nighthunter hadn’t been his usual, cheerful self lately.

They gave up after an hour of no activity. Nighthunter was in a foul mood when they parted.

The next night was much the same; after a while, they ended up on their backs on a rooftop. Nighthunter didn’t speak much, so Castiel filled the silence by trying to find the constellations he had read about in his old books and telling the stories he remembered about them. When Nighthunter laughed at one of his stories, Castiel felt inordinately pleased with himself.

A few days later at school, Castiel was on his way to his last class of the day when Dean fell into step with him. Castiel jumped; he wasn’t used to people walking beside him or even noticing him in the hallway.

“Hey Cas! So Charlie’s coming over to my house after school, wanna come too?”

Caught by surprise, all Castiel managed was, “Wha…?”

“We’ll probably do some homework or maybe just watch TV, depending on how productive we’re feeling.”

“I…okay. Sure.”

“Great! I’ll find you after school, okay?” Dean clapped Castiel on the shoulder briefly, then turned a corner and disappeared into the crowd of students so suddenly that Castiel wondered if he had imagined the whole encounter.

He still wasn’t sure what to think when, after school, he walked outside to find Charlie, Dean, and Sam waiting for him. Dean waved and Castiel waved back, hurrying forward to join them.

In the car, Charlie and Sam fought over control of the radio and Castiel found himself smiling with Dean. They pulled up to Sam and Dean’s house and piled out of the car. According to Dean, Mary was at a meeting and wouldn’t be home until later. Castiel followed the rest of them to Dean’s room, where Charlie and Sam sprawled on the bed, Dean took the chair at the desk, and Castiel found a spot on the floor to sit.

“Homework or _Game of Thrones_?” Dean asked.

“ _Game of Thrones_!” Charlie exclaimed.

Sam shrugged. “I don’t have much to do anyways.”

“Cas?”

The others all turned to look at him, and Castiel blinked hard. “What?”

“Which one do you want to do?”

Castiel frowned. “Is… _Game of Thrones_ some sort of board game?”

He judged by the shocked silence that followed that he had said something wrong. His face flushed.

“You don’t know what _Game of Thrones_ is?” Dean asked in an awed voice. “I’m almost impressed.”

“We have to show him the first episode!” Charlie said, pulling out her laptop.

A few minutes later, they were all squeezed onto Dean’s bed around Charlie’s laptop as the opening credits to the TV show played. Castiel was in the middle between Dean and Charlie, the full length of his arm pressed against Dean’s side. When Dean made a comment about the show, his breath tickled against the back of Castiel’s neck, raising goose bumps on his skin.

Castiel didn’t completely understand what was going on in the show. There was a lot of violence and a bit too much nudity for his taste. Besides, it was hard to concentrate when Dean was so close to him; every time he laughed, Castiel felt the vibrations through his arm. At the end of the episode, the others assured him that everything would make sense eventually. They had evidently decided that he would watch the show until he was caught up to wherever the rest of them were.

“Let’s watch the next one!” Charlie said, already finding it on her laptop.

“Hang on. Cas, do you want to?” Dean asked.

Castiel turned his head to find Dean’s face inches away from his own. He jerked backwards, feeling his face burn. “Oh…okay. Um, hang on. Bathroom.”

He scrambled off the bed and beat a hasty retreat out of Dean’s bedroom. In the hallway, he paused, putting a hand over his pounding heart. _What’s wrong with me?_ he wondered.

He didn’t have to use the bathroom – in any case, he didn’t know where it was – but he didn’t want to go back into the bedroom yet, so he wandered toward the living room. Just as he walked in, the front door opened and Mary entered the house.

“Hi Castiel!” she said. “I didn’t know you were coming over today.”

“Oh.” Castiel crossed then uncrossed his arms. He didn’t know how to talk to people’s parents. “Charlie’s here too.”

“That’s great.” Mary set down her briefcase and toed off her shoes. There was a brief, uncomfortable silence. Castiel wondered if he should admit defeat and go back to Dean’s room when Mary said, “Are you liking Jody’s house?”

“Yes,” Castiel said, relieved to have a proper topic for conversation. “Everyone’s been very kind.”

Mary smiled. “We’re lucky to have someone like Jody here. Are you from around this area?”

Castiel hesitated before answering. “Yes, I’ve lived here all my life.” He realized he shouldn’t make Mary ask all the questions, so he blurted out, “What about you?”

“No, I grew up in Lawrence,” she said. “We moved around a lot within the state after Sam and Dean were born but we finally settled down here when my husband passed away.” Her smile became a bit tight. “We needed a change of scenery after that. And the boys seem to like it here.”

“Yes, they seem to fit in well here,” Castiel said uncertainly.

Mary eyed him curiously. “I can’t help but ask – why are you staying at Jody’s?” She must have seen Castiel stiffen because she quickly shook her head. “I shouldn’t pry, I’m sorry.”

Castiel tried to force himself to relax. He had managed to avoid this question pretty well so far, but he didn’t want to refuse to answer entirely. “I was living on the streets when Jody found me,” he said carefully.

Mary nodded, seeming to recognize his hesitance. Her eyes were so soft and understanding; Castiel wasn’t used to being looked at this way…almost as if by a mother.

“I ran away from home,” he blurted. For some reason, he felt a prickle behind his eyes, so he stared at the floor beneath Mary’s feet instead of meeting her eyes. “I wasn’t safe at home so I ran away. My family doesn’t know where I am.”

He sucked in air quickly and his eyes flew back up to Mary’s face. She was looking at him with a strange expression. “I’m sorry, Cas,” she said quietly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Castiel muttered, shaking his head.

“Of course it matters,” Mary said. “And I’m glad you’re safe now. You know you’re always welcome here whenever you like, right?”

“I know.”

“Everything okay out here?”

Castiel spun around to see Dean standing in the hallway, frowning at him. He opened his mouth to stammer out a response, but Mary said, “It’s fine. Cas and I were talking. I’ll let you boys get back to work. You _are_ doing homework, aren’t you?”

Dean flashed a grin. “’Course we are, Mom. C’mon, Cas.”

Mary winked at Castiel as he turned to follow Dean back down the hall, and he offered a small smile in return.

“Was she being weird?” Dean asked as soon as they were out of earshot of the living room. “She wasn’t being too nosy, was she?”

“No, it was fine,” Castiel said quickly.

Outside Dean’s room, they stopped and Dean ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in the front. “Okay, I’m sorry, but I did listen in to some of what you guys were saying. Did you really run away from home?”

Castiel swallowed hard. “Yes.”

Dean let out a long puff of air. “Jeez, Cas, that’s intense. But are you sure you’re safe now? They won’t come looking for you?”

“I don’t think they’ll care enough to try,” Castiel mumbled.

“But what if they do?” Dean persisted. “You’re still in the same city! Shouldn’t you go, like, across the country or something if you want to really get away from them?”

Castiel looked at Dean with raised eyebrows. “Are you trying to get me to leave the city or something?”

“What? No! Of course not.” Dean looked frustrated with himself. “I’m just worried about you, Cas. What if you’re not safe?”

Something in Castiel’s chest felt warm and he couldn’t help but smile. “I’ll be fine, Dean. Don’t worry about me.”

Dean hesitated, then shrugged. “If you insist. But if you ever need help, tell me, okay?” He moved his hand and for a split second Castiel thought he was going to touch his face. Instead, Dean gripped his shoulder briefly, then let go and turned into his bedroom.

“Okay,” Castiel murmured. He took a moment to breathe a few times before following Dean.


	10. Chapter 10

“I swear, if nothing happens tonight _again_ , I’m going to go crazy.”

Nighthunter was in a bad mood and Castiel couldn’t blame him. It had been over a week since their run-in with Abaddon and since then the city had been almost eerily devoid of trouble. They couldn’t even find the normal thefts and burglaries that were usual on nights when Crowley and Abaddon weren’t up to anything.

They sat on a rooftop in the warehouse district near where they had found Abaddon’s hideout. A few nights ago, they had ventured back there, but the warehouse had been emptied and the only sign that a criminal organization was once operated from there was some sawdust from the crates scattered across the floor.

“Maybe tonight will be the night we find something,” Castiel said optimistically, though he didn’t really believe it. He got the feeling that Crowley and Abaddon were both biding their time, waiting for something big, and neither of them would be found unless they wanted to be.

“We should just fly over the city one last time before we call it a night,” Nighthunter said. They had already been over the city twice with no luck, but Castiel nodded.

They were both silent as they flew low over the buildings, Nighthunter watching and Castiel listening for anything out of the ordinary. Castiel began to wonder if Crowley and Abaddon had somehow both killed each other off and they would never know and continue flying around the city waiting for a fight that would never come. Sighing, he opened his mouth to tell Nighthunter that they might as well go home for the night.

_“I don’t care what you say, Crowley, I don’t like having them here!”_

The voice was far away, but it was so clear that Castiel froze in midair, his grip on Nighthunter slackening.

“Woah there!” Nighthunter shouted. “What’re you doing?”

Castiel said nothing, listening. That voice… It brought back every memory he had spent the last few months trying to forget. His skin crawled and his throat tightened. He wasn’t Angel Blade, the hero of Lebanon, but a weapon, a tool, a mindless thing that couldn’t tell right from wrong.

“Feathers, what’s going on?”

Without answering, Castiel swerved and flew toward the sound of the voice, pushing back every instinct that told him to run as far away from it as he could. Nighthunter shouted for an explanation but Castiel ignored him.

He landed atop what he knew to be the most expensive hotel in the city and crept toward the edge of the roof. They were just below him in the penthouse suite, probably fewer than fifteen feet away.

“What are you doing?” Nighthunter asked, moving up beside him. “Did you hear something?”

“Shh,” Castiel said. Below them, Crowley was speaking.

“If they bother you that much, darling, you can leave.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” a woman’s voice snapped. Castiel closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. It really was her. Naomi. His mother.

“That’s the price of doing business. The bodyguards stay with me, like it or not.”

Naomi made a frustrated noise but didn’t argue anymore. “Fine. Then let’s talk business.”

Nighthunter elbowed Castiel’s side. “What do you hear?”

“Crowley’s down there.”

Behind his mask, Nighthunter’s eyes widened. “Crowley? _The_ Crowley? What are we waiting for?” He started to move as if to crawl down the side of the building but Castiel put a hand on his shoulder.

“Not yet. He’s talking to someone.”

“Who’s he talking to?”

Castiel shook his head.

“What are they talking about?”

“He’s…offering her scotch.”

“What?” Nighthunter made a face. “Wait, is this, like, a sex thing?”

“No!”

“Then who’s the lady?”

Castiel closed his eyes. “She’s my mother.”

Nighthunter said nothin, and when Castiel opened his eyes, Nighthunter was staring at him with his mouth agape.

“Wait, you’re serious? Your mother is, what, working with Crowley?” A look of dawning realization crossed his face. “She’s the one that forced you to work for him, isn’t she?”

“Yes.” Castiel looked away. “Shh, I’m trying to listen.”

“This should be simple,” Naomi was saying. “You send one of your men in there and finish her off.”

“You think I haven’t tried that?” Crowley snapped. “You may have noticed that she’s invulnerable. It takes more than a well-placed knife to finish her off. I’ve lost some good men just getting close enough to try.”

“How close are you to finding a solution?”

“What, this substance that’s supposed to take away a person’s Gifts?” Crowley snorted. “It doesn’t exist. Besides, now that she’s got Alistair, she knows what we’re doing.”

“It sounds an awful lot like you’ve given up.” Naomi’s voice was cold.

“Given up? You think I want my city to be taken over by some ginger bitch who doesn’t know how to stay dead?”

“ _Your_ city?” Naomi scoffed. “Let me remind you exactly who it is who gave you all the power you have today.”

“And let me remind you who keeps _you_ in power! If Abaddon takes over we both go down. We may as well work together to take her down.”

“What’s going on?” Nighthunter hissed.

“They’re talking about Abaddon.”

“That’s really your mom down there? What would she do if she knew you were up here?”

Castiel shuddered. “I don’t want to think about that.”

Crowley and Naomi were discussing the numbers of Gifteds that Abaddon had on her side compared to Crowley’s. From what Castiel could tell, Crowley’s numbers were dwindling every day, while Abaddon grew stronger and stronger. Naomi seemed to grow more and more irritated as the conversation went on.

Then she asked, “Any news on that son of mine?” Castiel’s stomach flipped over.

Crowley gave a low chuckle. “A nuisance as ever. We haven’t had any run-ins with him or that other kid lately, but they’re probably busy dealing with Abaddon right now. Gives us less to do.”

“Hmm.” Naomi was silent for a moment. “If you ever get your hands on him, send him to me, will you?”

“Your wish is my command,” Crowley said sarcastically.

“I have business to attend to,” Naomi said. “Don’t be an idiot, won’t you? It’s hard enough practically running this city by myself without a crime lord who can’t even keep his title.”

“I’ll let you know if anything changes,” Crowley said, his voice full of contempt. There was the sound of movement, then a moment of silence. Then Crowley said, “You really infuriate me, did you know that?”

“It’s good for you to have one person you can’t control,” Naomi said. Castiel heard the sound of a door closing and sat back.

“She’s gone,” he said.

“Okay, now’s our chance,” Nighthunter said. When Castiel didn’t move, Nighthunter looked at him with wide eyes. “Come on, Feathers, what are you waiting for?”

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“What are you talking about? This is Crowley! This is our chance to get him!”

“He’s…powerful. I don’t know if we’re ready to face him.”

Nighthunter stared. “ _What?_ Not ready? What do you think we’ve been preparing for all this time?”

Castiel shook his head. “I just don’t think we should yet.”

“If we don’t do it tonight, then when will we – AHHH!”

Nighthunter’s voice was suddenly cut off at the same moment that something slammed against Castiel’s neck, pushing his face onto the concrete rooftop. Before Castiel could react, a heavy weight dropped onto his back, as if someone was sitting on him. His wrists were forced together and bound by a rope that burned against his skin.

“Get off!” Nighthunter was shouting. Castiel heard the sounds of struggle, but after a few moments they were subdued. The weight pressing down on him was so heavy that he couldn’t take a proper breath and he choked, struggling feebly as his vision started to go dark around the edges.

Then he was hauled to his feet and his eyesight swam. He sucked in air desperately and when his sight came into focus again he saw a face that he recognized from his days working with Crowley.

“Gotcha,” Meg said, grinning.

Immediately, Castiel tried to take off into air, but he couldn’t. It was as if he was being held down by something much too strong for him to overcome…almost like he was a normal person. Meg seemed to notice his failed attempt because she laughed.

“It’s gonna take more than that now, big boy.”

Castiel looked to the side. Nighthunter was on the ground, being pinned down by four men while they tied his hands together. When they were finished, they pulled him to his feet as well and Castiel saw him try to force the ropes off to no avail. Their eyes met and Castiel saw thinly veiled panic in Nighthunter’s.

“Take ‘em down to Crowley,” Meg instructed. The two of them were pulled toward the stairs that led into the hotel, Nighthunter struggling all the way down but Castiel not resisting. All he could feel was dread pooling like concrete in his stomach and the hammering of his heart in his ears.

They were brought down the stairs and into a hallway, then through a pair of double doors into the penthouse suite. It was minimalist décor, all clean black and white lines, not a vase or fruit bowl out of place. Aside from the bodyguards that stood at the edges of the rooms, only one person sat in the living room, in a chair facing the floor-to-ceiling window as if surveying his kingdom.

“Crowley,” Meg said. “We found these two on the rooftop.”

The man stood up from his chair and turned to face them, sticking his hands into the pockets of his dark suit. As usual, he was shorter than Castiel expected. But he had that same sadistic smile and gleam in his eye that meant he was always one step ahead of everyone else. Castiel’s skin crawled.

“About time we met officially,” Crowley said in his soft, gravelly voice. “Though it isn’t the first time for us, is it, Angel Blade?” He said the name mockingly. “Pity you didn’t come sooner, we could have had a lovely family reunion. Your mother’s rather worried about you, did you know? But you’re determined to break her heart.”

Castiel felt Crowley’s words slide over him and immediately felt small, worthless, childish. He gritted his teeth. “Get out of my head.”

Crowley stepped closer and looked Castiel directly in the eyes, smiling benignly. He was a few inches shorter but he made Castiel feel like he was looking up at him instead of down. “I’m not in your head, darling. Perhaps that’s just your own mind telling you what a failure you are.”

He reached out to pat Castiel on the cheek, but Nighthunter shouted, “Don’t touch him!”

Looking surprised, Crowley drew back and turned toward Nighthunter, who met his gaze defiantly. He stepped closer and peered at Nighthunter curiously. “And who exactly are you? That’s the big mystery. We know all about this one of course.” He jerked a thumb toward Castiel. “But you took us by surprise. I have to say, you’ve impressed me.”

Castiel saw Nighthunter blink and straighten up slightly, unprepared for the effect of the force of Crowley’s words. “Don’t listen to anything he says!” Castiel hissed. “He’ll manipulate you – that’s his Gift!”

Nighthunter tore his eyes away from Crowley’s to stare at the floor, clenching his jaw. Crowley sighed in annoyance. “There you go, turning him against me already. It’s not polite, you know, to discriminate against Gifteds.”

“How did you trap us?” Castiel demanded. “Why can’t I fly?”

“Ah!” Crowley snapped his fingers. “You see those ropes you’re tied up with? Soaked in a little thing I call “anti-Gift.” Not the most imaginative name, I’ll have to work on that, but it serves its purpose. It doesn’t take away your power entirely but as long as you’re tied up, you can’t float more than a few inches off the ground and this fellow here couldn’t smash a walnut.”

“You told my mother that was impossible.”

“Oops.” Crowley shrugged, looking pleased with himself. “I lied.”

“So you’re going to use it to get rid of Abaddon?”

“That’s the eventual plan, yes. But while I’ve got you here, I might as well get rid of you too.”

Castiel’s insides went cold. “What?”

Crowley smirked. “You think I’d be as idiotic as Abaddon and let the two of you live? Maybe she hoped that you’d get rid of me and spare her the trouble, but I know that I’m the only one who can kill her. And now I can kill you too.”

“You can’t do this,” Castiel said quickly, desperately. “My mother – you told me you’d bring me to her!”

“Shut up!” Crowley snapped, and Castiel almost swallowed his tongue in his haste to stop talking. “What your mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her. I’ll say it was an accident, tragic really, and you died before we even realized it was you. She’ll have to understand, with the mask it’s hard to tell.” He sighed. “But just to be kind, I’ll start with the other one.” He gestured to one of his bodyguards, who started moving toward Nighthunter.

“No!” Castiel shouted, looking frantically at Nighthunter, who hadn’t moved, a look of intense concentration on his face. The bodyguard moved closer, but just before he reached him, Nighthunter pulled his hands apart with a yell and the rope binding him fell in two pieces on the floor. Before anyone could move to react, Nighthunter leapt toward Crowley, one fist pulled back for the blow.

“ _STOP!_ ” Crowley bellowed so forcefully that the entire room froze. Nighthunter looked paralyzed, his fist inches from Crowley’s face. Crowley chuckled, leaning closer and peering at him. “Oh, this one’s full of anger, isn’t he?”

“Shut up,” Nighthunter said through gritted teeth.

“Anger, and guilt too. What are you guilty about, boy?”

“Stop it.” Nighthunter squeezed his eyes shut. “It wasn’t my fault.”

Crowley’s smile widened. “It is your fault.”

“It’s not!” Nighthunter shouted. “It’s not my fault he’s dead!”

“It’ll be your fault that he’s dead too.” Crowley met Castiel’s eyes briefly, then took a step forward and whispered into Nighthunter’s ear.

Nighthunter’s entire body relaxed. When he turned to face Castiel, his face was slack and his eyes vacant.

“What did you do?” Castiel murmured. Nighthunter took a step toward him and Castiel stepped back. “Crowley, what did you do to him?”

“Sic him, boy,” Crowley said.

Nighthunter charged toward Castiel, who could only hold his bound hands up in defense. The first punch hit him in the gut, knocking all the air from his body, and the second squarely in his ribs, where he felt something crack. The third, to his temple, brought him to the floor, where Nighthunter knelt over him, raining down blow after blow. Blood flowed from Castiel’s nose and he felt the cloth over his face begin to slip.

“Please,” he groaned between blows. “Stop.”

Nighthunter paused, his fist raised on the air, and Castiel saw something flicker in his eyes. Behind them, Crowley shouted, “Finish him off!”

The hesitation gone from his face, Nighthunter started to bring his fist down, but Castiel shoved upward with his bound hands, catching Nighthunter in the stomach. While Nighthunter caught his breath, Castiel pushed him off and rolled away, scrambling to his feet.

Crowley made an impatient noise and gestured to one of the bodyguards. “Help him out!”

The man started forward and made a grab for Castiel but only caught the rope around his hands. Throwing himself backward, Castiel tore free of the ropes, along with what felt like a layer of skin along with it. He jumped into the air and kicked the bodyguard in the head, sending the man stumbling back. Then he dropped down in front of Nighthunter, who was blinking dazedly.

“Are you you again?” Castiel shouted, seizing his shoulders and shaking him.

“Yeah…” Nighthunter muttered, rubbing his forehead. “What…?”

A pair of hands grabbed Castiel’s shoulder and he threw his elbow backwards until it connected with someone’s chest. The hands withdrew but somebody else seized him around the waist, pulling him to the ground along with them. He struggled, but before he knew it, Meg was on top of him, her knees pressed into his chest and an impish smile on her face.

“Get off!” Castiel shouted, before she dropped her forearm onto his throat, cutting off his windpipe and his ability to speak. He wheezed, flailing helplessly.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nighthunter, who still hadn’t moved, being seized by one of the bodyguards who was twice his size. The man picked him up easily and tossed him across the room, where his head slammed against the edge of a coffee table and he didn’t move. Castiel tried to shout, but it came out strangled and weak.

“Get up!” Crowley snapped. Nighthunter stirred, picking himself up like a puppet with its strings being pulled. Blood soaked through his mask and ran down the side of his face and neck, but he hardly seemed to notice.

Castiel heard a buzzing in his ears and saw dark spots. His eyes started to roll back but Meg didn’t let up the pressure on his throat. From very far away, he heard raised voices.

Then Meg let go and he was able to get in one full, delicious breath of air before a new hand closed around his throat. It tightened, lifted him off the ground and into the air. When his eyes came into focus, he saw Nighthunter staring up at him with empty eyes.

“Wait,” he rasped, kicking feebly. Nighthunter’s grip only tightened.

“Faster!” Crowley shouted, but instead of obeying, Nighthunter squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. He let go and Castiel fell to the ground, gasping for breath. Nighthunter stumbled backward, looking unsure of himself.

Then the same bodyguard as before picked him up and threw him with inhuman strength across the room. Nighthunter crashed through the window and disappeared from sight, falling from the top floor of the hotel.

“NO!” Castiel screamed. He tried to stand but was hit by a wave of dizziness. Instead, he shot into the air, through the hole in the window, and after the falling shape below him. Fighting back the darkness in the corners of his vision, he flew faster than he ever had before, too fast to take a proper breath.

Then he collided with Nighthunter, throwing his arms around him and changing trajectory so quickly that his head spun. Nighthunter’s body was limp and when Castiel looked down, he saw blood soaking his entire face.

“Wake up!” he shouted hoarsely, barely audible over the wind rushing past them. Nighthunter’s head lolled to the side. Castiel’s voice was almost a sob. “Wake up, dammit!”

There was no response. Gritting his teeth and fighting lightheadedness, Castiel shot away from the hotel, heading toward the closest safe place he could think of.

They reached the empty warehouse in minutes. Castiel lowered them through the hole in the roof that they had created in their last departure from here, then landed on the ground and leaned Nighthunter against the wall. The other boy’s mouth hung open and his eyes were shut, though Castiel was relieved to feel a faint breath of air against his wrist when he propped his head up.

“Oh God,” Castiel whispered, looking at all the blood. “What do I do?” He leaned back for a moment, pressed his hands against his mouth.

Nighthunter stirred, groaning, and Castiel winced. He couldn’t let him bleed out here; he had to tend to the wound on Nighthunter’s forehead. Which meant he had to take off his mask.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, moving forward and working his fingers under the edges of the mask. The fabric was sticky with blood but he peeled it away little by little, not daring to breathe. Finally, the mask came away completely, revealing a deep gash in his forehead and short, sandy hair. His heart pounding, Castiel looked at Nighthunter’s face.

It took him a few moments to recognize it through all the blood, but when he did he inhaled sharply and leaned backward. At that moment, the boy’s eyes fluttered open. For a moment he seemed disoriented, but then he realized that he didn’t have a mask covering his face. His eyes met Castiel’s.

“Dean?” Castiel whispered.


	11. Chapter 11

Dean’s eyes widened. He tried to sit upright but immediately cried out and lifted a hand to the cut on his head. Castiel grabbed his shoulder to steady him.

“Don’t move. You’re bleeding hard.”

He pulled the belt of his trench coat from its loops and tore a strip from it, which he wadded up and pressed against Dean’s forehead. The rest he wound around Dean’s head, carefully tying it in the back. He leaned back, looking at his work. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do its job until Dean could get it properly tended to.

“So,” Dean mumbled. “The secret’s out.”

Castiel didn’t know what to say. He could only stare at Dean, who was trying to wipe some of the blood from his face with his sleeve. “It’s really been you this whole time?”

“Yep,” Dean said. “I’m guessing this means you know me in real life.”

“I…yeah.” Castiel cleared his throat. “We go to school together.”

“I figured.”

Castiel stared and Dean looked down self-consciously. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know! Like you’re looking at me!”

“Sorry.” Castiel averted his eyes, but after a few moments he looked back again to make sure that he wasn’t imagining all of this. Dean scowled at him.

“It’s still me, okay?” he said. “Now you just know who I am in real life too. It’s not a big deal.”

“Of course not,” Castiel said, though he knew it wasn’t true. This would change everything. He started to stand up to give Dean some space, but a sharp pain shot through his ribs and he stopped, sucking in a breath and clutching his side.

“Crap, you’re hurt too,” Dean said, trying to move but falling back against the wall.

“I’m fine,” Castiel said, gingerly poking his middle. “I think I cracked a rib.”

“You’re covered in blood, man.”

Castiel lifted a hand to his face and brought his fingertips away bright red. He could feel cuts across his skin and bruises puffing up. “Some of it’s yours.”

“Some of it’s not.” Dean exhaled slowly. “I did that to you.”

“It wasn’t you. Crowley was controlling you.”

Dean shook his head. “It was still my hands.”

“Crowley is powerful, Dean,” Castiel said quietly. “The fact that you resisted him at all is more than most people can say.”

Dean was silent for a few moments. “We really got our asses handed to us, didn’t we?”

Castiel nodded grimly. “That’s Crowley for you. He gets inside your head and twists around everything you think.”

“He sure did some twisting on me,” Dean murmured, looking down.

Castiel hesitated. “What you said back there…”

Dean closed his eyes. “Feathers.”

“Whatever it was that happened, it wasn’t your fault. No matter what Crowley said.”

When Dean looked up, Castiel was shocked to see tears in his eyes. Dean pressed his lips together and nodded. Neither of them spoke for a long time. The pain in Castiel’s ribs built up in a low throb. It hurt to breathe.

“It was my dad,” Dean said quietly.

“What?”

Dean closed his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to face the words he was speaking. “The person who died. It was my dad. I killed him.”

The air disappeared from Castiel’s lungs. A tear slipped from the corner of Dean’s eye and traced its way through the drying blood on his cheek.

“He drank a lot, and sometimes when he was drunk he would get angry. He’d hit Mom, or me, or Sammy. None of us knew how to make him stop. But then one day…” He swallowed hard. “One day he was hitting Mom and I just – I couldn’t take it anymore. I told him to stop but he didn’t listen. So I hit him back. And I didn’t know then, I didn’t know what I was capable of. And he died, because of me. Because I killed him.” Dean took a deep, shuddering breath and opened his eyes, finding Castiel’s gaze and looking at him imploringly. “Say something.”

Castiel’s throat was dry. “It wasn’t your fault, Dean,” he whispered.

Dean’s face seemed to crumple. He pressed his thumb and forefinger against his eyes. “But it was, it was my fault,” he moaned. “I killed him, Feathers.”

Castiel moved forward to grip Dean’s shoulder. “That’s not who you are. You are Dean Winchester, you are Nighthunter, and you’re a hero. That’s the most important thing.”

Dean shook his head and said softly, “But I hurt you. And there are so many people I haven’t saved.”

A frustrated sound escaped Castiel’s mouth. “Dean, maybe hating yourself for all the people you’ve failed somehow makes you feel better about yourself, but it doesn’t help the people that care about you. You can’t go throwing yourself into danger because you think your life doesn’t matter. There are people that need you to be safe. Your mom, Sam…” He swallowed. “And me.”

Dean frowned. “Don’t be stupid.”

“You’re the one being stupid!” Castiel exclaimed. “We care about you, you idiot. Do you really think I could do this all by myself?”

“I practically had to coerce you into working with me!”

“Well, I was wrong! I wouldn’t have survived a week without you. We’re partners, Dean. I need you. That means you can’t go sacrificing yourself out of some twisted idea that it’ll make up for what you did.”

Dean said nothing, looking down at his hands. Finally, he muttered, “You know I need you too, right?”

“Of course I know,” Castiel said roughly.

“Okay.” Dean sniffed and wiped at his nose with the back of his hand. Realizing how tightly he was clutching Dean’s shoulder, Castiel let go and leaned back. Dean huffed a breath. “None of this matters anyway. Crowley and Abaddon both beat us easily and we have no real plan on how we’re going to stop them from killing everything.”

“What matters is that we’re alive. And we didn’t come away from that completely empty-handed. We learned that Crowley has something that can weaken people’s Gifts and he wants to use it to kill Abaddon.”

“And your mother is working with Crowley,” Dean added.

Castiel grimaced. “Well, I already knew that.”

“Yeah, and I notice you didn’t bother to tell me before.”

“It’s not a fact I like to advertise, alright?”

“I get it, Feathers, okay? I didn’t tell you about my dad and you didn’t tell me about your mom. But if we’re going to come out of this in one piece, no more secrets.”

“Well, there is still one more secret,” Castiel muttered, gesturing to the cloth still covering his face.

“Right.” Dean looked away. “Okay, there can be one secret. But no more than that, okay?”

Castiel hesitated. “You’re fine with me knowing who you are but not knowing who I am?”

Dean shrugged jerkily. “It’s probably easier if I don’t know. Makes it simpler.”

Castiel had to agree. Already, knowing that Dean was Nighthunter made all of this seem so much more real.

“Hang on, you’ve been writing about yourself in the newspaper this whole time!”

Dean huffed out a short laugh, wincing as he did so. “Okay, that’s a little embarrassing. Still, it makes the research a hell of a lot easier.”

Castiel shook his head disbelievingly.

“What? If Peter Parker can do it, why can’t I?”

Smiling a little despite himself, Castiel said, “Fair point. So what do we do from here?”

“I don’t know,” Dean admitted. “Keep doing what we’re doing, I guess. Avoid big confrontations but help where we can. That’s what we’re here for right?”

“That’s right,” Castiel said, relieved that Dean was no longer ranting about how they weren’t doing enough.

“We should call it a night,” Dean sighed. “I’m gonna make Sam wrap up this cut properly. No offense to your bandaging job.”

“None taken. Sam knows about all of this?”

“Yep.” Dean carefully pushed himself onto his feet, using the wall heavily as support. Castiel stood as well to offer him an arm to lean on. “He was the one who encouraged me to do this in the first place. He helps me keep all of this a secret from Mom.”

“Why haven’t you told her about this?”

Dean winced as he took a step forward. “She doesn’t like me using my Gifts. Wants us to just be a normal, apple pie family. I don’t have the heart to tell her that we’ve already blown that way out of the water.” He stopped, squeezing his eyes shut. “Um, any chance you could fly me home? Not sure how far I’ll get in this condition.”

“Of course.” Castiel looped his arm around Dean. “Are you ready?”

“Whenever you are, cowboy.”

They took off, shooting through the roof and into the sky. When Castiel looked down, Dean’s eyes were closed and his face was tight with pain, so Castiel was careful to fly smoothly and slower than usual. It took him longer than it normally would to reach Dean’s house. When he did, he stopped to hover above the building.

“Take me down to the back,” Dean said. “I leave my bedroom window unlocked.”

Castiel landed them in the back yard and helped Dean over to his window, which he pushed open and poked his head into. In the room, Castiel noticed the clock that read 4:11 AM. Dean grimaced. “Ooh, Sam’s not gonna be happy about me waking him up right now.”

“Make sure you get some rest,” Castiel said.

Dean gave a mock salute. “Will do. Maybe I’ll see you at school, Feathers.”

“Maybe,” Castiel said with a smile. He waited until Dean was safely through the window before he took off again.

He flew back to the Home and climbed through his own window, immediately changing out of his Angel Blade clothes and stowing them under his bed. He crept down the hall to the bathroom, where he ran a cloth under warm water to wipe the blood from his face and hands. Carefully, he poked at the cuts on his face. None of them were too serious, although they stung. His lip was split and the area around one of his eyes was developing a purplish hue. He finished cleaning himself and stuck Band-Aids on the places that needed them, then padded back to his room and lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

Dean was Nighthunter. He didn’t know how he could have missed it; it seemed obvious now. Dean writing those articles and knowing all that information that he shouldn’t have – somehow Castiel had interpreted that as meaning that Dean _knew_ Nighthunter. He could almost hit himself for his stupidity.

Dean was Nighthunter and Castiel was a fool for letting himself get so close to him and not seeing what was right in front of his eyes. It would be so easy now for Dean to figure out who he was; he already knew far too many details about Castiel’s life. Perhaps he already had his suspicions.

And what if Dean did find out? What would he say if he knew that Castiel, the boy he was kind to probably out of pity and who could barely sting together a complete sentence without clamming up, was Angel Blade? Would he be angry that Castiel had lied to him? Surely he couldn’t be – he had lied as well. But Nighthunter was a whole different side to Dean that Castiel had never glimpsed at school; harder and angrier, not the eternally cheerful guy that Castiel had come to know.

He didn’t know what to think but he couldn’t stop his thoughts from swirling, chasing sleep far out of reach. It wasn’t until almost a half an hour later that he realized with a shock that Dean had never told him where to go when he flew him home. Which meant that Dean knew that Castiel knew where he lived. That had to narrow the list of possible people down. Castiel chewed on his split lip until it started bleeding again and he had to get a tissue to press against it. Dawn was peeking through his window by the time he gave in to his utter exhaustion and fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Somehow, he managed to sleep through both of his alarms and Charlie pounding on the door to tell him that the bus was coming in five minutes. When his eyes finally cracked open, the clock beside his bed told him that it was a quarter past eleven. He groaned and started to pull his covers over his head.

“You’ve already slept half the day away, so you might as well get up now.”

He pushed his covers back to see Jody at the foot of his bed, setting down a folded stack of clothes on top of his blankets. His stomach went cold when he saw the trench coat in the pile.

“What’s that?” he asked. His voice came out scratchy.

“Laundry,” Jody said. “Found some of it under your bed this morning. It was filthy, by the way. If you wanted it cleaned, you could have just asked.”

“That’s, um…that’s not…” He trailed off, unable to think of a proper excuse. Jody wasn’t stupid; she watched him with an expectant look, though she didn’t appear surprised in the least. Castiel swallowed hard. “You knew?”

“Doesn’t take a genius to figure out why a kid under my roof is sneaking out every night and somehow doesn’t have to climb down from his second-floor window.” She put her hands on her hips. “I’ve known for weeks.”

“And…you haven’t told anyone?”

“Look, Cas, your business is your business. As long as you’re taking care of yourself, I’m not going to interfere.”

Castiel exhaled slowly, nodding, feeling a weight he hadn’t realized he was carrying lift from his chest. “Thank you.” He started to sit up, but groaned when pain shot through his ribs.

“Okay, that doesn’t sound like taking care of yourself,” Jody said with a frown as she sat down at the edge of Castiel’s bed. “You’re covered in Band-Aids. What did you do to yourself?”

“I think I got myself in over my head,” Castiel admitted.

“You think?” Jody peeled back one of the Band-Aids on his face and hissed. “These need to be properly treated. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“My ribs. I think I might have cracked something.”

“I’ll get you some ice,” Jody said. “Meet me in the bathroom, okay?”

Castiel pulled himself out of bed slowly, his entire body seeming to fight against movement. He felt as if he had been used as a punching bag – which, he supposed, he had. He staggered down the hall and managed to get to the bathroom just as Jody returned with a pack of ice wrapped in a dishtowel.

“Sit on the counter and hold that against your ribs where it hurts,” she instructed, and he did as he was told. She rifled about in the cupboards under the counter, taking out bandages and antibiotics, then ran a cloth under water. Carefully pulling off the Band-Aids that Castiel had stuck haphazardly over his face, she began to clean his cuts with quick, careful swipes.

“Thank you for doing this,” Castiel murmured.

“It’s my job, isn’t it?” Jody said, not looking away from her task.

“Not really. You don’t have to help me or keep my secret.”

Jody stopped and looked at him with a slight frown. “No, that is my job. I take care of you, Cas, that’s how this works. You don’t have to do this on your own.”

Castiel looked down to hide the moisture that rose to his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Jody squeezed his shoulder briefly before returning to work.

When she had finished cleaning and bandaging him up, she sent him back to bed with another ice pack for his black eye, saying that it was too late for him to go to school today so he might as well get more rest to start healing. Once back in bed, Castiel found himself drifting back to sleep. He woke up briefly when Jody came in to set a bowl of soup on his bedside table, but even the smell of food couldn’t tempt him to get up.

Finally, he was jerked awake a few hours later when his door flew open. He sat upright and immediately winced. His ice packs were reduced to water by now.

“Thank God you’re alive!” Charlie exclaimed dramatically. She flopped onto the foot of his bed. “You wouldn’t wake up for anything this morning!” For the first time, she looked at him properly. “Holy shit, what happened to you?”

“Uh…” Castiel said, trying desperately to think of an excuse.

“Cas was mugged.” Jody appeared in the doorway. “He got beat up pretty bad. He’s been resting today so he can get better.”

Castiel shot her a grateful look as Charlie’s eyes widened. “Woah, Cas, that’s intense! Are you okay? I mean, obviously not. Did they take anything?”

“Um, no. I don’t really have anything worth taking.”

“I’m glad you’re okay, dude.”

“Me too,” Castiel said quietly.

“There’s more soup downstairs if you want it,” Jody said to him, before leaving the room.

“Dean wasn’t at school today either,” Charlie sighed, and Castiel found himself perking up.

“Oh?” He tried to sound nonchalant. “Why not?”

“Sam said he was sick, but he seemed fine yesterday.” She shrugged. “Maybe it’s one of those fall bugs that gets you quick. Anyway, it was really boring at school without you two.”

“Sorry. Did I miss much in English?”

“Not really. But essays are due Monday.”

“Right,” Castiel sighed. He picked up the bowl of soup from his bedside table, but it had gone cold.

“I can get you some more from downstairs,” Charlie said.

“Oh. Sure, thanks.” Castiel handed her the bowl and she scampered off.

While she was gone, Castiel checked his phone. He had a few texts from Charlie throughout the day inquiring where he was, and one from Dean. He opened it.

_Can we do tutoring another day? Feeling sick. Sorry I know essay is due soon._

He had forgotten that tutoring was supposed to be today. And somehow, he had almost forgotten what he had learned last night. His stomach flip-flopped as he tried to think of a response.

_No worries, almost done with essay anyway. No need to reschedule. Feel better._

The truth was, he didn’t want to be alone with Dean so soon after finding out the truth. He was afraid he might somehow betray himself or give some clue that would allow Dean to guess his identity. Maybe by keeping his distance, he would avoid discovery.

He spent the day resting, visited frequently by Charlie and Jody. Dean didn’t text him back, no matter how many times Castiel checked his phone, and he hoped this meant that Dean was getting rest as well instead of something worse.

Jody checked up on him before he went to sleep for the night, making sure that he had fresh ice packs and instructing him to take a night off from being a hero, which he had already been planning to do. Tomorrow he would return to real life and his responsibilities, but for now he could rest.


	12. Chapter 12

Dean wasn’t at school the next day.

Castiel found himself relieved when the empty seat in Mr. Shurley’s class wasn’t filled by the time the bell rang; the cuts and bruises on his face were still pretty obvious and would no doubt give Dean another clue about his identity.

He didn’t get very many questions about his injuries, which he wasn’t surprised about. At most, he got curious looks from passersby in the hallway. Charlie stuck closer to him than usual, seeming almost protective of him as if he might get jumped again. The gesture made him smile.

When night fell, he carefully crept out of his window and flew to the city, but there was nothing to do. Dean wasn’t at their usual street corner or anywhere else, so after circling the area a few times, he left. On his way back, he found himself flying over Dean’s house, where he stopped and hovered over Dean’s bedroom. He hoped Dean was sleeping and letting himself heal, and he wondered when he’d see him again. Then he remembered that he had resolved to keep his distance so, with a sinking heart, he flew back to Jody’s.

He was crawling back through his window when he heard the door of his bedroom creak open. Quickly, he pushed himself the rest of the way through and spun to face the intruder.

“It’s just me,” Jody said quietly. “I thought you were taking a break for a few nights?”

Castiel relaxed and sat on his bed. “There was nothing out there tonight anyway.”

“That’s good. The last thing you need right now is to get yourself into another fight.” Jody crossed the room and sat at his desk chair, leaning back in it and resting her feet on the edge of his bed. “I wanted to ask you about all this. How long have you been doing it?”

“Ever since I ran away from home.”

“And did you run because of your Gifts?”

Castiel hesitated, then nodded. “My mother is a very powerful person. She made me work with someone – well, you probably know who he is. Crowley.”

Jody’s eyebrows shot up. “I know that name. You managed to get mixed up with him?”

“Unfortunately. That’s what happened the other night, too.”

“You ran into Crowley and you’re _alive?_ ” Jody gave a low whistle. “You must be even stronger than I thought.”

“Not strong enough,” Castiel muttered. It felt strange to be telling her all of this; he had held these secrets so close to himself for so long and they seemed reluctant to be spoken.

“There’s been a lot of talk in the police force about Crowley and a woman named Abaddon,” Jody said. “Know anything about that?”

“Plenty. They’re both trying to take over the criminal world and they’re not afraid to hurt innocents in their struggle for power. They were behind that attack at the nightclub.”

“We figured out that much. Do know what they’re planning?”

Castiel shook his head regretfully. “We’re grasping at straws at this point.”

Jody nudged him with her foot. “And what about you?”

“What about me?” Castiel frowned.

“How are you holding up? This can’t be easy on you, and not just physically. Is there anybody else who knows who you are?”

“No, nobody.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Well, Crowley knows.”

“And this…Nighthunter. Do you know who he is?”

“Yes,” he said quietly. “But I can’t say.” Secrets again. There really was nobody he could tell everything to. “He doesn’t know about me, though.”

“Cas, remember to take care of yourself,” Jody said softly, in what sounded like the type of voice a mother would use. “Your safety is the most important thing, okay?”

“But it’s not,” Castiel murmured. “The most important thing is that people are safe, no matter what I have to do.”

Jody leaned forward, forcing him to look her in the eyes. “People aren’t going to be safe if you get yourself hurt, Cas.”

“I know that. But this is what I do. And I’m not going to give it up because I’m scared for myself.”

Jody gave him a long, searching look. Finally, she glanced at the clock and sighed. “Get some rest, Cas. You need as much as you can get.”

Castiel nodded and she stood, resting a hand on the top of his head for a moment. He closed his eyes at her touch. Then she moved away, slipping out of the room and closing the door behind her.

 

* * *

 

Castiel didn’t see Dean again until Monday. By then, most of Castiel’s bruises had faded to a dull yellowish color and the cuts on his face were barely visible. When Dean slid into the seat next to Castiel in their first period, he looked terrible. His face was pale, emphasizing the dark circles under his eyes, and he had a grey beanie pulled low over his forehead, under which Castiel knew was a still-healing gash.

“Damn, you really were sick,” Charlie said. “I thought you were just using that as an excuse to skip, but you look awful.”

Dean gave a wan smile. “Did I miss much?”

“Cas got mugged.”

“I’m fine,” Castiel said quickly as Dean’s eyes widened. “It was nothing.”

“Nothing?” Dean repeated skeptically. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Good as new,” Castiel assured him.

Mr. Shurley stepped into the room. “Time to hand in your essays!”

“Shit.” If it was possible, Dean went even paler. “That’s today.”

“You forgot?” Charlie hissed.

“I can’t believe this,” Dean muttered. “I’m such an idiot. Did you finish it, Cas?”

“Um.” Castiel pulled his completed essay from his backpack. “Yeah.”

“Well, at least you managed it,” he sighed, raising his hand as Mr. Shurley wandered over in their direction.

“Got your essay there, Charlie? And Cas too, great! Glad your tutoring with Dean paid off.”

“About that,” Dean said. “Any chance I could have a day’s extension?”

“He’s been sick,” Charlie chimed in. “Look at him, he’s a mess!”

Dean grimaced, looking appropriately pathetic, and Mr. Shurley sighed. “I don’t normally do this, but okay. Make sure you have it to my first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Of course,” Dean said quickly. “Thank you!”

As Mr. Shurley walked away, Dean dropped his head onto the desk in front of him, then winced and lifted it back up again. Castiel offered him a small smile, wishing he had more to give, and Dean returned it with a tiny shrug.

Dean was quiet for the rest of the day whenever Castiel saw him. During lunch, he didn’t talk to the others but pulled out his laptop and began typing furiously, scowling at the screen. Castiel barely saw him after school because he and Sam left right away without stopping to talk to any of them.

As he watched Dean’s back hurry toward the parking lot, Castiel couldn’t stop the sinking feeling in his stomach. He didn’t understand it – hadn’t he promised himself to keep his distance from Dean? Why did it bother him now that Dean was staying away from him?

He tried not to let it bother him, but that night as he flew over the city and couldn’t find Dean anywhere, those thoughts resurfaced. Maybe Dean had figured out who Castiel was and was trying to push him out. Maybe Dean had finally gotten tired of him and decided that he wasn’t worth the effort.

Just like he had a few nights before, he flew over Dean’s house instead of going straight back to Jody’s. This time, however, the light was on in Dean’s bedroom. He hesitated for only a moment before floating down just outside the window.

Dean was sitting at his desk, staring blankly at his computer screen. His eyes looked glazed and his mouth hung open a little. Softly, Castiel tapped on his window.

“What the…” Dean jumped a little at the noise, peering out the dark window, confusion clouding his expression. When he realized who it was, though, his face cleared and he laughed a little. He crossed the room and pulled the window open, leaning out to talk.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was beginning to think you were avoiding me,” Castiel said.

“Not avoiding, just recovering from a concussion and trying to finish an essay that’s already late. Is there some huge catastrophe going on right now?”

“No. You got a concussion?”

“Yep. Also, I had to tell my mom about all this. She wasn’t too happy about it, but she said she can’t stop me.”

“Somebody found out about me too,” Castiel said quietly. Dean looked alarmed, so he quickly added, “It’s alright, I can trust her. And I didn’t tell her about you. But it’s strange, having somebody know.”

“You’re telling me,” Dean said. And there it was again, that unspoken knowledge that they weren’t quite even, that Castiel knew who Dean was but Dean didn’t know who Angel Blade was. Castiel knew they were both thinking it, but he didn’t dare mention it aloud.

“How’s the essay going?” Castiel asked to change the subject.

“Badly,” Dean sighed. “Funny thing about concussions is that they make it hard to concentrate. Who’d have thought, right?”

“Do you want help?”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “Have you read _Slaughterhouse Five_?”

It felt like an intentionally pointed question, and Castiel swallowed hard before answering, “I have.”

Dean nodded shortly and ducked back into his window. “You can help if you want. Or you can leave. Either way.”

“I’ll stay,” Castiel said, resting his arms on Dean’s windowsill and leaning his chin on top of them. He thought he caught a small smile on Dean’s face as he sat back down at his desk.

Castiel stayed for a good hour, listening as Dean read parts of his essay aloud and suggesting changes or helping him think of the right word. It was nearly one in the morning when Dean sat back and rubbed his eyes with a groan.

“That’s good enough. I don’t care anymore. I’m done.”

“I think it sounds great,” Castiel said.

“Thanks for your help, Feathers,” Dean said. He gave a shaky laugh. “Man, this is pretty weird, huh? We go from fighting supervillains to fighting English essays.”

“That’s the life we live,” Castiel shrugged.

“It’s messed up.” Dean stretched his arms over his head. “I’m gonna fall asleep in this chair if I stay here much longer. I’ll see you around?”

“Of course. Goodnight, Dean.”

 

* * *

 

 

By the next night, Dean was back out as Nighthunter again and they fell back to their roles almost as if nothing had changed. Almost immediately, they caught wind of a burglar attempting to break into an office building, which they promptly put a stop to. Castiel was happy that they had something to do even if it wasn’t related to Crowley or Abaddon.

It was a strange sort of arrangement that they established without talking about it. Neither of them mentioned the disparity in their knowledge of each other, though they could both feel that something had shifted. At school, Castiel wondered if he was imagining that Dean seemed quieter around him. He would invite Castiel to his house every few days, but between Charlie and Sam they were rarely alone together. Part of Castiel wanted to ask Dean about it directly, but since Dean wasn’t saying anything he decided not to either. Now that Castiel was doing better in English, Mr. Shurley told him that there was no need to continue tutoring, so he didn’t have a ready-made excuse to spend time with Dean.

By night, they kept themselves busy stopping common criminals and keeping their ears open for news of Crowley and Abaddon, but as usual there was nothing. The biggest change was that sometimes when they were flying over the city, Dean would pull of his mask. He claimed that the wind felt good on his face, but to Castiel it felt at least partially like a challenge to uncover his own face.

Two weeks after Castiel helped Dean finish his essay, he was invited to Dean’s house after school. This was no unusual occurrence, but today Sam was starting debate club after school, which Dean gave him no end of grief about. It also meant that Sam wouldn’t be home for much of the afternoon. And if Castiel remembered correctly, Charlie was planning to hang out with her LARPing friends. So Castiel and Dean would be alone.

He reminded himself as he walked toward the parking lot after school that he and Dean were alone together all the time as Nighthunter and Angel Blade. But of course that was different. He couldn’t stop the butterflies that sprouted in his stomach when Dean waved to him from his car.

They chatted lightly about school and homework in the car. Castiel wondered if Dean had also realized how long it had been since that had been alone together. Did Dean even think about those things?

When they reached Dean’s house, they greeted Mary, who barely looked up from her book, and headed to Dean’s room.

“Homework or _Game of Thrones?_ ” Dean asked, echoing the question he had asked the first time Castiel came over to hang out.

“ _Game of Thrones_ ,” Castiel said. They had been watching it whenever they got the chance and were nearing the end of the first season. Castiel had actually started enjoying it, partly, he suspected, because of Dean’s enthusiasm whenever they watched. Besides, he didn’t think he’d be able to concentrate much on homework today.

“Good choice.” Dean sat on the bed and began to find the next episode as Castiel sat beside him. As the opening theme began to play, he added, “Now this is a really important episode so pay attention.”

However, despite Castiel’s investment in the show and his apprehension at being alone with Dean, he found it difficult to keep his eyes open. They had been up late the night before coaxing a young woman down from the edge of a building. In the end she had jumped, but Castiel dove after her and promptly delivered her to the nearest hospital. Still, he hadn’t been able to sleep for a good hour after returning to his bed.

It was because of this that sometime during the first five minutes of the episode, he leaned his head back against the wall behind him and closed his eyes. The next thing he knew, Dean was gently nudging his arm. Castiel lifted his head from Dean’s shoulder and blinked. The end credits of the show were playing on Dean’s laptop.

“What happened?” he muttered.

“You fell asleep, dude,” Dean laughed. “Was the episode really that boring?”

“No, I was just…” He flushed. “I fell asleep on your shoulder. Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Glad you found it comfortable. How are you so sleepy all the time?”

“How are you not?” Castiel said without thinking. When he realized what he’d said, he froze. “I – I mean, you’re always so busy with school and your writing and you’re just…awake…all the time…” He trailed off feebly. Dean had a strange look on his face.

“I’m awake because I sleep at night, Cas,” he said. “Do you not?”

“Of course I do,” Castiel said defensively, blushing again. “So what happened in that episode?”

Dean closed his laptop. “We’ll watch it again some other time when you’re not falling asleep on me. Do you want a ride home?”

“No!” Castiel closed his eyes and shook his head, feeling flustered. “I mean, I don’t need to go home yet. If you want me to stay, that is. Whatever you want.”

When he dared look back at Dean, he was smiling a little and shaking his head. “Okay, weirdo, you can stay if you want. Homework?”

“Sure.”

They spread out on opposite ends of Dean’s bed. Castiel opened his physics workbook but he couldn’t concentrate on a single equation. Dean had to have figured it out by now; it wouldn’t take a genius. He kept sneaking up glances; Dean was hard at work and didn’t seem to notice him.

A half an hour later, Dean glanced at his phone. “I should pick up Sam. Do you want to stay or go home?”

“I’ll head home,” Castiel said. He wasn’t accomplishing much here besides worrying. He packed his backpack and followed Dean to the garage.

Neither spoke for the first few minutes of the drive to Jody’s. Finally, Dean said quietly, “You remember what I said a while ago, that you could always ask me for help if you needed it?”

“I remember.”

“You know that offer still stands, right? If your mom or anyone comes looking for you, if you’re not safe, you can come to me.”

“I – yes, okay.” Castiel swallowed. “Thank you. Where is this coming from?”

Dean shrugged, keeping his eyes straight ahead of him. “Just wanted to make sure you knew,” he said gruffly. They pulled up in front of Jody’s house and Castiel climbed out of the car.

“See you later,” he said. Dean waved as he drove away.

Castiel was halfway up to the stairs to his bedroom when the meaning of Dean’s words hit him. _Your mom…_ He had never told Dean about his mom; only Nighthunter knew about that. Of course there was the chance that it was a coincidence, but it seemed too specific not to be pointed. Dean had been testing him and Castiel fell for it. Which meant Dean knew.

He sat down hard on the steps and put a hand over his pounding heart. _Dean knows._ What should he do? Call Dean and explain everything? Pretend like nothing happened? Wait until tonight? He couldn’t think straight.

Jody walked past the bottom of the stairs and paused, noticing him sitting there looking like he was on the verge of panic. “You all right there, kiddo?” she asked, frowning.

Castiel blinked at her, taking longer then usual to process what she was saying. “Yes,” he said at last. “Just…trying to take something in.”

She climbed up the steps to sit beside him. “Anything I can help with?”

Castiel shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Something just took me by surprise and I don’t know what to do.”

“Does it have to do with…?” She gave him a pointed look, and he nodded.

“Don’t worry about it, Jody,” he said, standing up. “I’ll take care of it.”

“If you’re sure,” she said, getting to her feet as well and ruffling his hair a little. “Take care of yourself.”

“I’ll try to.”


	13. Chapter 13

Castiel decided to wait. If Dean had wanted to hear the truth right away, he could have asked straight out. He could wait until tonight for Castiel to reveal himself.

The rest of the day flew by and Castiel could think of nothing but what he would say to Dean. No matter how much he racked his head, he couldn’t think of the right words. Night fell before he knew it, and he changed into his trench coat.

It didn’t take him long to find Dean; he sat on the edge of a rooftop, clearly visible from far away. Castiel didn’t go to him straight away, instead hovering silently a few yards overhead. Dean had taken his mask off and sat with his chin resting on his hand, looking over the city with an absent expression.

Castiel landed softly behind him. “Hello Dean.”

Dean didn’t seem surprised at his arrival. “Hey Feathers,” he said without turning.

“What’s the matter?” Castiel asked, hearing the heaviness in his voice.

With a sigh, Dean stood up and turned around, not meeting Castiel’s eyes. He seemed to be struggling to think of what to say.

“What’s going on?” Castiel asked again, worry growing like a hole in his stomach.

Dean dragged his eyes up to Castiel’s face. “Feathers, I can’t keep doing this,” he murmured.

Every thought, every word of his planned speech flew from Castiel’s head. “What?” he whispered.

“This…” Dean gestured to the mask at his feet. “It’s wearing me down. I can’t keep this up.”

“What are you talking about?” Castiel took a step forward, feeling panic start to rise up inside of him. “Dean, you can’t give up now! We’re so close—”

“We’re no closer to stopping Crowley and Abaddon than we were at the beginning,” Dean cut in. He hung his head, looking defeated. “We’re just more beat up and in more danger and we’re in way over our heads.”

“That’s not true! We know so much now!”

“So what? We’ll tell somebody else and let them take care of it.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest, hunching his shoulders and making himself small. “We’re just kids, Feathers. Why do we have to do this on our own?”

Castiel stared at him, at a loss for words.

“Besides,” Dean went on, “I realized I’m doing this for the wrong reasons. I felt guilty for killing my dad so I wanted to help people. But I can’t spend the rest of my life trying to make up for what I did.”

“Why should it matter what your reasons are? There are still people that need your help! I—” His voice cracked. “I need you.”

Dean’s eyes shot up to Castiel’s.

“I can’t do this on my own,” Castiel whispered.

Dean shook his head. “That’s not true. You said it yourself from the very beginning: you’re better by yourself.”

“I was wrong!” Castiel protested, desperate. “That was before I knew you, before I…” He shook his head. “I didn’t know then. But I do now, Dean, and I know that I can’t keep doing this without you. And I don’t want to.”

“Then don’t,” Dean urged. “Haven’t we seen enough already? Let somebody else worry about it for once.”

“Like who? There’s no one else out there who can do what we do. The city is relying on Nighthunter and Angel Blade.”

“Well, they’re going to have to do with just Angel Blade,” Dean muttered to the ground.

Castiel closed his eyes. “Is this because you know who I am?”

“What?” Dean exclaimed. “Of course not!”

“But you know, don’t you?” Slowly, Castiel opened his eyes to see Dean staring at him.

“I think so, yes,” Dean whispered.

Castiel nodded. “Then you know that I can’t stop doing this. I have nowhere else to go, nothing but this.” He took a step backward, his chest aching. “But I think I understand. You’ve got a family and a future to think about. I shouldn’t be asking you to sacrifice that.”

Dean shook his head emphatically. “That’s not what—”

“You don’t have to pretend anymore, Dean. I understand what you want. I’ll leave.”

“Wait!” Before Castiel could take off, Dean grabbed his hand. “That’s not what I want, okay?” He looked frustrated. “This isn’t because of you. I don’t want this to be the end for us, okay? I still…” He bit his lip. “I still need you too.”

Castiel looked down at the hand that Dean held, which Dean quickly let go of, looking embarrassed. He shuffled his feet and looked down.

“I want to stay together,” Dean mumbled. “Even if it’s not because of this.”

Castiel’s chest felt too big for his body. He wanted to cry suddenly, or maybe fly until he was too numb to feel. Instead, he took a step closer to Dean.

“Close your eyes,” he said. Dean did as he said and Castiel pulled the cloth away from his face. The air felt oddly cold against his exposed skin. His hands lifted to softly touch Dean’s face. “Say my name.”

“C…” Dean swallowed. “Castiel.”

A thrill went through Castiel that had nothing to do with the cold. He found himself moving closer. “Say it again.”

“Castiel.”

He was close enough to count the freckles on the cheeks that he held lightly in his fingertips. Dean exhaled, his warm breath brushing against Castiel’s thumb.

“One more time,” Castiel breathed.

“Cas…” Dean opened his eyes, his gaze meeting Castiel’s steadily. For a split second, neither of them breathed.

Then they moved together, meeting in the middle in an effortless kiss. Castiel’s eyes closed and he lost himself in the warmth of Dean’s mouth, the feeling of his hand sliding into his hair, stuttering heartbeats and soft breaths. His head was spinning but he had never felt steadier on his feet or surer of what he was doing.

It seemed to go on forever. When he finally pulled away, they both breathed, staring at each other. A dopey smile stole across Dean’s lips and the sight of it pinched Castiel’s heart.

“I should go,” he said, not moving.

Dean’s smile disappeared. “Cas, I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Castiel held Dean’s eyes for a moment then kissed him one more time. Finally, he let go of his face and stepped backward.

“Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“I won’t,” Castiel promised. “I just need to…think about some things, okay?” Briefly, he reached out and squeezed Dean’s hand once, then let go and shot up into the sky.

 

* * *

 

He barely slept the rest of that night, replaying what had happened over and over again as he lay in bed. He touched his lips, beginning to wonder if he had imagined it all.

No more secrets. They both knew everything now and Castiel couldn’t take that back. He didn’t want to. But it felt strange after so long keeping everything to himself.

None of that mattered though. Dean was done and he might as well have told Castiel that it was because of him. Of course he had denied it, but it couldn’t be a coincidence that he decided to quit on the same day that he finally figured out Castiel’s identity. Still, hadn’t Dean kissed him back? He didn’t know what to think anymore.

The one thing he was sure of was that he couldn’t drag Dean back into this. Dean had made it clear that he was done for good and no matter how much Castiel disliked it he had to respect that. If it made Dean happy, that was the most important thing.

Would Dean want to talk to him anymore? He didn’t know if they would ever be anything more, but could they at least still be friends? When he saw Dean at school in the morning, what should he say? Would they talk about what happened?

He fell asleep with these questions still swirling around in his head, unable to decide what to do.

When he woke up, sun was streaming through his window and the house was quiet. That wasn’t right; it was usually a bustle of activity in the morning. He looked at his clock and sat bolt upright. School started in five minutes.

Instantly wide awake, he jumped out of bed and threw his clothes on, grabbing his backpack and running downstairs. Nobody was home; everybody had already left for school and Jody must have gone to work already. He ran to the bus stop on the corner and scanned the schedule there. The next city bus going by the school didn’t come for another seven minutes, which would make him about twenty minutes late for school.

He groaned out loud; he couldn’t miss school today. What would Dean think? He had to talk to him, or at least see his face. After Mr. Shurley’s class, he had decided he would pull Dean aside and talk to him until they had sorted out whatever this was between them. But that meant he still had to get to school.

He waited impatiently for the bus, and when it finally came he ran inside and sat in the seat closest to the door. The bus driver gave him a bemused look but didn’t hurry his pace at all.

The whole ride there, his stomach fluttered with nerves. He had no idea what he was going to say to Dean or how he would react. Every rational thought seemed to have fled his head.

When the bus finally stopped a block away from the high school, Castiel dashed off and started running, his backpack thumping against his back. He was already late, but running kept his mind off his nervousness. At the front of the school building, he stopped, resting his hands on his knees and panting for breath. When he had composed himself, he straightened up and walked into the building.

He knew he had to go to the front office to get a late slip, so he headed there instead of Mr. Shurley’s classroom. As he approached, he saw a large group of people gathered inside and hoped he wouldn’t have to wait a long time.

Then he stepped into the office and six pairs of eyes fixed on him. He froze. Jody was staring at him with wide eyes, as was Charlie and the principle and two of the secretaries that worked in the office. But Castiel’s gaze landed on the woman that they were gathered around. Her red hair was pulled into a perfect bun and her grey suit was the exact same that he remembered. The air seemed to leave the room as her eyes locked on him.

“Mother?” he whispered.

“Castiel,” she gasped, more emotion in her voice than Castiel had ever heard. She stepped toward him, her arms outstretched. “My baby, come here.”

“No!” Castiel stepped backward quickly and her arms fell back to her side. His heart was pounding loudly in his ears. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“Please.” She rolled her eyes, her expression going back to that condescending look that Castiel was much more used to. “How many Castiels do you think there are in this city? You may have changed your last name, but it wasn’t that hard to find you when I really looked.”

“Ms. Novak,” Jody cut in, stepping forward. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave Cas alone.”

“I’m his mother,” she snapped. “And I’m taking him back home.”

Castiel met Jody’s eyes over Naomi’s shoulder and she must have seen the desperation on his face. “Cas’ home is with us now. He was living on the streets before we took him in.”

“Well I certainly appreciate your generosity,” Naomi said, sounding decidedly unappreciative, “but it’s not necessary anymore. He belongs with his family. And until he turns eighteen that’s where he’ll stay.” She took ahold of Castiel’s upper arm firmly; her grip felt like a shackle.

“Cas left your home for a reason,” Jody said, her voice level. “He felt he wasn’t safe there.”

“What are you accusing me of?” Naomi demanded, straightening up with fire in her eyes.

“Ms. Novak—”

“That’s _Mayor_ Novak! Now I’m taking my son home. If you don’t want a horde of lawyers coming after you, I suggest you let me leave.”

Jody closed her mouth, looking alarmed. She met Castiel’s eyes apologetically. He felt himself begin to shake. _You can’t let her take me_ , he wanted to shout. _Please, don’t let her!_

His eyes flew to Charlie, whose hands were pressed over her mouth. He wanted to tell her to let Dean know what happened, but he didn’t know how to express that through a look.

“Come along, Castiel,” Naomi snapped, tugging at his arm. As she led him out of the office, he held eye contact with Charlie for as long as possible. When she passed out of sight, it felt as if his last lifeline had snapped.

A sleek black car was parked in front of the school. Castiel should have noticed it as he ran up, but he had been too preoccupied. That should have been his first hint to run far away.

Naomi didn’t speak on the way out to the car but she kept a firm grip on his arm, probably to make sure that he didn’t fly away. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to if he wanted; he was shaking so hard that he was sure she could feel it.

Reaching the car, Naomi opened the door and had him crawl into the back seat before climbing in after. She shut the door and Castiel heard the lock click. “Take us home,” she told the driver.

Castiel sat on the far end of the seat, pressed against the door, as far from his mother as he could get. He stared straight ahead, trying to steady his breathing.

“You’ve been getting yourself into a lot of trouble,” Naomi said quietly.

He said nothing, not looking at her.

“Everybody in the city knows your name. Well, your alias name. That doesn’t make me look very good, you know.”

He swallowed hard, clenching his hands into fists.

“I’ve missed you,” she murmured.

Castiel closed his eyes. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not. I was worried about you, hearing everything you’d gotten up to.”

She didn’t have Crowley’s Gift, but somehow her words affected him in the same way, twisting underneath his skin and making him want to believe they were true. He shook his head. “Then why did it take you so long to find me?”

“Crowley finally told me that you paid him a visit. He almost killed you, you know. I decided that enough was enough. It was time you came home.”

“That’s not my home anymore.” Castiel heard his voice shake and dug his fingernails into his palm.

“Castiel,” Naomi said. She touched his shoulder but he shrank away.

“Don’t touch me!” he snapped. She recoiled, looking hurt. Immediately, Castiel regretted his tone, wishing he could take it back.

“I just want to help you,” she murmured. Part of Castiel wanted to turn back to her and apologize, but he stopped himself and stared out the tinted window instead.

The rest of the car ride was silent. The closer they got to Castiel’s old home, on the opposite side of the city from the school and Jody’s house, the more his feeling of dread grew. By the time the car rolled up to the pristine white mansion, he worried that he might throw up.

Naomi got out of the car and when Castiel didn’t move, she circled around to his door, seized his wrist, and practically dragged him out of the back seat. Once again, she kept a firm hold on him all the way into the house, only releasing him when the door was closed behind them.

“Are you hungry?” Naomi asked brusquely. “I can have the kitchen bring you something.”

“No,” Castiel said, even though he hadn’t eaten since the night before. “What are you going to do to me?”

Naomi gave him an odd look. “Do to you? What makes you think I’m going to _do_ something to you?”

“But…” Castiel’s thoughts felt muddled. “I ran away. Isn’t that bad for your image? Aren’t you going to punish me?”

He realized he probably shouldn’t be giving her ideas, but the thought of her not punishing him was so unnatural that he couldn’t even process it. Naomi rolled her eyes and made a _tsk_ sound. “The press didn’t find out, so we’re safe. If you had gone blabbing to everyone I might have been angry, but you stayed quiet. I’m just happy to have you safe at home.”

Castiel stared at her blankly as she started up the stairs to the second floor. She looked back at him, annoyed. “Well come on, then.”

He followed obediently. Everything in this house was so familiar: the soft carpet on the steps, the paintings on the walls, the smell of wood polish. It was as if he had never left and nothing had changed. He was as helpless as he had always been.

Naomi led the way down the hallway, passing the bedrooms of Castiel’s brothers. He could hear them moving around inside but none of them came out to welcome him back. He doubted any of them had missed him and he hadn’t missed them either.

Before they reached Castiel’s room, Naomi took a sudden right into a different hallway. Castiel stopped, confused. “My bedroom is this way,” he said, pointing down the hall.

“We’re not going to your bedroom,” Naomi said.

Understanding clicked in place and Castiel’s eyes widened. “No. Mother, please, no. I won’t run away, I swear. Just please don’t—”

“Oh, come on!” Naomi said impatiently, grabbing Castiel’s arm again and dragging him after her. It was no use resisting, so Castiel followed her down the hall. They stopped in front of the door and Naomi pulled out a ring of keys to unlock it. Panic seized at Castiel’s throat as the door swung open. Naomi gave him a slight shove and he stepped inside.

“I’ll be back in a few hours,” Naomi said. “Then we can talk.”

Castiel spun around, tears welling up in his eyes. “Mother, please. You don’t have to do this.”

“Castiel, this is for your own good,” she said gently before she closed the door. A tear slipped down Castiel’s cheek as he heard the lock click in place.

For a few moments, he stood still, listening to Naomi’s footsteps retreat down the hallway. Then slowly, he turned to face the room.

It was little more than a closet, small enough that if he stretched his arms out he could just brush his fingertips against each side. The walls were painted a pale cream color and a single, dull light bulb illuminated the room. There were no windows, no furniture, nothing but blank walls and a cold, white-tiled floor.

Castiel’s breath started to come faster and faster, and he clapped his hands over his mouth. When he started to grow dizzy from lack of air, he breathed in slowly, then let it out, and repeated again and again until he had calmed down somewhat. He tried to push away the memories of the days locked in this room, wondering if Naomi would ever return to let him out.

“I’m going to be okay,” he whispered to himself, though he didn’t believe it. He sat in the corner, the cold of the floor seeping into his bones and making him wonder if he was even truly alive.

Then something inside his chest seemed to break open and a sob tore itself from his throat. He pulled his knees up to his body and pressed his forehead against them as tears streamed from his eyes. Alone in the tiny prison cell that Naomi had created for him, he curled into himself and wept.


	14. Chapter 14

There was no way to keep track of the passage of time. He could hear things from outside the room but they were muffled; Naomi had made the room soundproof, though even she couldn’t keep everything from Castiel’s ears. Still, the things he could hear told him little. When his tears stopped, he stayed in the corner, feeling as if all the strength was drained from his body.

As hard as he tried not to think about it, his thoughts kept returning to the other times he had been forced to stay in here. The worst had been the first time he refused to work with Crowley. She hadn’t let him out for three days, having a housekeeper pass him meals and a bucket to relieve himself in through a cracked door. After that, his refusals had weakened.

It had been so long since he had been here. He’d thought he was free at last. But it had been foolish to think that, he now realized. How could he ever think he was safe from Naomi? He would never escape from her, even if he ran all the way across the country.

He had no idea how long it had been when the lock on the door finally clicked. Castiel jumped to his feet as it swung open and Naomi stepped inside, closing the door behind her with a grim expression.

“Let me out of here,” Castiel said. He had meant it to sound demanding but it came out as pleading and desperate.

“We need to talk first,” she said. “Castiel, you can’t run away again. We got lucky this time, but if you do it again things could get bad.”

“You mean your image might be damaged?” Castiel murmured, looking at her feet because he didn’t dare look her in the eyes.

She sighed. “More than that, Castiel. It’s a dangerous world out there for people like you. I just want to take care of you.”

Castiel remembered the day he told her that he was Gifted. When he first discovered it, he hid it from her, afraid that she would be angry, but when he finally told her, she was so pleased. He had felt such relief; all he wanted was to make her happy. It wasn’t long, though, before she figured out how to exploit his abilities.

“You just iwant to make yourself stronger.” He still didn’t look her in the face.

“Don’t say things like that,” she said sharply. “Don’t you know you hurt me when you say that? I’m your mother, Castiel. What kind of a mother doesn’t look out for her son?”

“What kind of mother forces her son to work with a dangerous criminal?” Castiel demanded, looking up at last, anger burning inside him. “What kind of mother locks her son away when he doesn’t do as she says?”

“I’m trying to help you,” Naomi said gently. “You’re different than other children, Castiel. I can’t treat you how I treat your brothers. You’re special.”

“I don’t believe you,” Castiel whispered. “All you know how to do is lie.”

She stepped closer to Castiel and took his face in her hands, lifting it up so that he had to meet her eyes. “I’m protecting you. Remember that, always.”

Castiel stared unblinking at her. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing more than what I have always wanted: your love and loyalty.”

“You want me to go back to working for Crowley.”

“Eventually, yes, but let’s not rush into things.”

“I won’t do it.” Castiel stepped backward out of Naomi’s grasp. “I don’t care how long you try to keep me locked up in here. I won’t go back to working for that man.”

“We’ll see,” she said lightly. “I have plenty of time to change your mind.”

“No!” It came out as a shout and Naomi looked startled. He clenched his hands into fists. “These past few months I’ve done actual good in the city. I won’t go back to doing what I did before. Never again.”

“Actual good?” She laughed scornfully. “So you think you’re some kind of hero now? Trust me, Castiel – what the city needs isn’t some masked teenager with superpowers. It’s me. Which means that if you want to make a real difference, you’ll support me.”

“That’s not true,” Castiel said through gritted teeth. “You and Crowley only hurt people, but I’ve saved them. I’m doing the right thing.”

“Please,” she muttered. “You’re a child, Castiel. What do you know about right and wrong?”

“More than you, apparently!”

“Castiel,” Naomi said, her tone shifting from derogatory to gentle in the blink of an eye. “I know you’ve been away for a long time and maybe you’ve picked up some new ideas from those friends of yours and that other Gifted. What’s he called? Nighthunter? Who is he anyway?”

“Nobody,” Castiel said quickly. “I don’t know who he is.” It sounded like a lie even to his ears and Naomi raised her eyebrows.

“We’ll talk more about that later,” she said sternly. “But the point is, you’ve clearly been misled. You have to remember that I’m doing the right thing here. All I want is for you to do the same.”

She reached out and gripped his shoulder, her fingers digging into his skin. He felt himself shrinking, weakening, growing smaller under her gaze. He wasn’t Angel Blade; he was just Castiel and he was powerless against his mother.

He closed his eyes, remembering the night that he had run away, almost four months ago. The realization that he didn’t have to live under Naomi’s thumb any longer had been the most liberating feeling he had ever experienced; he had let tears stream down his cheeks as he flew away from his open bedroom window, sure that he would never return. But now he was letting Naomi take him back. What was the point of it all if he didn’t put up a fight?

“No,” he whispered, opening his eyes and shrugging off her hand. Naomi opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “No!” he repeated, louder this time. “You’re wrong and you’ve been wrong all along. I don’t care what you have to say. I’m never going back.”

Naomi’s eyes blazed. “We’ll see if you don’t change your mind after a few days in here.”

She started toward the door, but Castiel darted in front of her, blocking her way. He realized with a shock that he was the same height as her – when did that happen? “You’re not going to lock me in here ever again. I’m leaving this house and I won’t return.”

Naomi barked out a laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t leave here.”

“I will,” Castiel said. “And you can’t stop me, Mother. I’m more powerful than you are.”

Her face twisted. “Those powers you have, do you know what they make you?” she spat. “A freak!”

“No,” he said. “I’m a hero.”

“I’m the only one who loves you as you are!” she exclaimed desperately. “Nobody will ever accept you!”

He thought of Charlie and Jody and the rest of the kids at the Home, welcoming him without a question. He thought of Dean, his easy smile and his warm hands and his lips pressed to his. “They already do.”

He turned and opened the door, stepping into the hallway with a long exhale.

“Castiel!” Naomi shouted, leaping forward and seizing his wrist. Her grip, which had once felt like chains around him, seemed weak and frail.

“Let me go,” he said.

“I’m your mother!” Her voice broke and Castiel saw tears glistening in her eyes.

Castiel pulled his wrist from her grasp. “Not anymore.”

He turned and left her standing silently in the doorway of the hated room. As he walked down the hallway, he stared straight ahead, blocking out the sounds of her tears.

When he reached the front door he paused with his hand on the knob, leaning his forehead against the smooth wood. His throat tightened and he attempted to swallow, pushing back tears. Nonetheless, he found himself smiling wider than he could remember smiling in a long time. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door.

Jody and Charlie stood on the doorstep, Jody’s fist raised to knock on the doorstep. The look of determination on their faces dissolved into shock.

“Cas?” Jody demanded.

“Cas!” Charlie shouted, leaping forward and throwing her arms around Castiel’s neck. He squeezed her back and something inside him opened wide; tears streamed silently from his eyes as he buried his face in her red hair.

“What’s happening?” Jody asked when Charlie finally let go, tears in her eyes too.

“I’m leaving here,” Castiel said, his voice strangled by his tears. He sniffed loudly and swiped at his face with his sleeve. “I want to go home. My real home.” A horrible thought struck him. “That is, if you’ll take me back. Now that you know who I am.”

“Of course we’ll take you back!” Jody said, sounding surprised. “I came here prepared to fight with whatever it took to get you back. Where’s your mother?”

“She won’t be coming after me,” Castiel said.

“Come here,” Jody murmured, pulling Castiel into a hug as well. He pressed his lips together, trying to stop the tears that kept falling.

Jody didn’t let go until he stopped shaking. When she finally pulled back, she cupped his face in her hands. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go home.”

 

* * *

 

Charlie sat in the backseat of the car with him, holding his hand and leaning her head on his shoulder. It was late afternoon already; Naomi had kept him locked away for most of the day. He pushed the memory away.

“So your mother is really the mayor,” Charlie said as they drove home. “That practically makes you Lebanon royalty, right?”

Jody swore as a car cut in front of her. They had to go through downtown to get home, but they were stuck in the traffic of people going home for dinner.

“She wasn’t much of a mother,” Castiel muttered.

“I’ll say,” Charlie agreed. “Oh man, everyone was freaking out when they heard what happened. You should have seen Dean’s face when I told him. You know, I think he might have a crush on you.”

Castiel’s stomach jolted. “What did he say?”

“Why, do you have a crush on him too?” she said teasingly.

“C’mon, Charlie.”

“Okay, okay. He didn’t actually say much, just turned really white and mumbled some stuff.” She shrugged. “He’s been acting weird lately, have you noticed?”

“I suppose,” Castiel said. The thought of Dean made his insides want to curl in on themselves. What was he going to say when he saw him?

“You never said why you ran away the first time,” Charlie said thoughtfully. “I mean, not that I can blame you.”

“Um…” Castiel met Jody’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Charlie, there’s probably some things I should explain to you.”

The sound of gunfire cut through the air, making Charlie scream and causing the truck in front of them to swerve sharply to the right, crashing into a trash can on the sidewalk. Castiel and Charlie were thrown forward in their seats as Jody slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting it.

“What the hell is going on?” Charlie demanded.

Castiel pressed his face against the window. Traffic had stopped completely up ahead, where a tall, thin man wearing a red bandana stood in the middle of the road, spraying bullets at a dark streak moving almost too quickly for Castiel to see. It came to a stop leaning against a lamppost and Castiel recognized Meg’s smirk. Alistair roared and shot at her, but she darted away and the bullets shattered the windows of a wedding dress shop across the street. Screams filled the air.

“I have to go,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt.

“What are you talking about?” Charlie demanded, grabbing onto his arm.

“Charlie, you know that thing I was about to explain to you?” he said. “So, basically, I’m Angel Blade.”

Her eyes widened so hugely that Castiel worried they might pop out of her head. “No way,” she whispered. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“Nope.” He pushed the car door open. “I have to deal with this. Jody, try to get as many civilians out of here as you can.”

“What about the other one?” Jody asked. “Nighthunter?”

Castiel hesitated. “He’s retired,” he said, and climbed out of the car. As soon as his feet were on the ground, he pushed into the air, streaking toward Alistair. New shouts rose up at his appearance but he kept his eyes on his target.

Alistair looked toward him a half a second too late. Just before reaching him, Castiel flipped in midair, hitting him in the head feet first. Alistair went down, the gun clattering to the ground.

Meg was in front of him the second he landed, leaning in far too close for comfort. “You’re not supposed to be here. Crowley said Mommy put you in time-out.”

“Time-out’s over,” Castiel said. “Where’s Crowley?”

“He’s waiting. Where’s your boyfriend?”

“Not here. What’s Crowley waiting for?”

Meg’s eyes focused on something over Castiel’s shoulder. “Her.”

Castiel spun around as Abaddon stepped onto the street, her red hair seeming to glow in the evening sunlight. Her face pulled into a snarl as she lifted a handgun and shot directly at them.

Meg sped away and Castiel flew upward. New screams filled the air. Glancing around, Castiel saw Jody and Charlie directing people out of their cars and away from the fight. Castiel hoped they stayed well out of the line of bullets.

Then he noticed new people streaming onto the streets. At first, he wanted to shout at them to get back, but he noticed that some of them wore Abaddon’s red bandana and the rest wore all black and gathered around Meg. Among them, Castiel saw Crowley in his typical black suit. The two groups faced each other in the middle of the street.

“Shit,” he whispered.

Abaddon’s group was bigger and all of them were armed with guns, but Castiel knew not to underestimate Crowley’s people. There were far too many of them for him to fight at once. But who was he if he didn’t at least try?

He dropped like a stone, landing in between the two groups and turning sideways to each of them so he didn’t have his back exposed to either. “Stop this now,” he said in his most commanding voice.

“Ah, Castiel,” Crowley said. “Has Mummy let you out to play? She promised she’d have you back on my side in no time, but you know what they say.” His eyes slid over to Abaddon. “Never trust a bitch.”

“Get out of the way, boy,” Abaddon hissed. “I’ve waited long enough for this.”

“There are innocent people here,” Castiel said. “They’re going to get hurt in the crossfire. You have to stop.”

“Enough.” Abaddon lifted her gun and fired at Crowley, but Meg sped in front, grabbing the bullet out of the air. It clattered harmlessly to pavement in the same moment that four different guns from Crowley’s group fired at Abaddon. They tore holes in her clothing but did no harm to her whatsoever, and she laughed.

“Let’s not go wasting our bullets on her, boys,” Crowley said in a low voice. “Now the others, however…”

Before Castiel could say anything, guns were bristling from both sides and he was directly in the line of fire. If he didn’t move, he would be full of holes in a few seconds.

Both sides moved forward at the same moment and Castiel shot upward just in time, the first bullet cracking through the air a hairsbreadth behind him. The groups collided and the air was filled with the sounds of shouts and gunfire. Crowley hung back, but Abaddon was in the middle of the fray, unable to be touched. Castiel had never seen so many Gifteds fighting in one place; it was both horrible and fascinating to watch. They moved with strength, speed, and dexterity that normal humans could never achieve.

Up in the air, Castiel felt useless. He dared not venture into the fight, knowing that everyone was against him and he was completely unarmed. What he could do, though, was get people safely out of the way.

A young couple near the fight was still in their car, cowering in their seats and watching with terrified fascination. Castiel sped toward them and threw the passenger side door open. The woman in the seat screamed.

“Get out of here!” Castiel shouted, gesturing urgently for them to leave. “You’re not safe!”

“Who are you?” the woman demanded.

“I’m Angel Blade,” Castiel said. “Now go! Run as far from here as you can!”

The couple climbed out of the car and took off running down the street. Castiel flew into the air. Across the street, he saw Jody helping a man out from his flipped over car. He dropped down toward her.

“How many more people are in danger?” he asked once the man was sent running on his way.

“Just a few more,” she said, out of breath. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing good,” Castiel said grimly. “Where’s Charlie.”

“She’s gone. I told her to get to safety.”

“Good. As soon as you get the rest of those people, get away yourself. Don’t try to get in the middle of this.”

“Cas, I’m a police officer. It’s my job to get in the middle of this.”

“Not this time. These people are too powerful; they’ll kill you without blinking an eye.”

“But what about you?”

He hesitated. “I’ll be fine. Just be careful.”

She gripped his shoulder. “You too.”

He flew off. A short ways away, he spotted the wedding dress shop whose windows had been shot out. A small group was inside, crouching behind mannequins and counters but far too exposed. He flew toward them and landed amid the broken glass inside the shop.

“Is there a back exit?” he demanded, hoping there was someone who worked here.

“Y-yes,” a woman behind the counter squeaked. “But we can’t move!”

Castiel glanced toward the fight. They all seemed preoccupied with each other and none of the stray bullets were coming toward them. “Go now and I’ll cover you. You go first, and the rest of you follow.”

The woman nodded shakily. When Castiel signaled, she dashed away from the shelter of the counter, still bent over double, and ran toward the back of the shop. The others started to follow her. About half of them were through to safety when a stray bullet shot through where the window had once been and shattered a framed picture on the wall above the counter. The people that remained screamed and flattened themselves to the ground.

“Keep going!” Castiel shouted, glancing back at the fight behind him. “Stay low!”

The rest of them got up and ran, practically pushing over each other in their rush to get to safety. Once they were all through the back door, Castiel flew back out of the store and looked down on the fight from above.

Most of them were still up and fighting, though some lay unmoving on the ground. Despite their smaller numbers, Crowley’s group was holding its own. Meg stayed close to Crowley, keeping everyone’s hands off him. Abaddon was trying to force her way through to him, but she was held back every time.

Castiel’s mind raced. The way this was going, they wouldn’t stop until all of them were dead…or unless one of their leaders fell. Crowley was well protected by a ring of his followers but Abaddon was on her own. She may be invulnerable, but nobody was invincible.

Taking a deep breath, Castiel dove toward her. Using the same trick he had with Alistair, he hit her feet first and she stumbled backward a few steps, taken by surprise. One of Crowley’s men tried to drive a knife into her back but it shattered upon connecting with her skin.

Castiel landed in front of her and immediately ducked her blow. She had to have a weak spot; Castiel just had to find it. He swung at her middle and pain burst in his knuckles as soon as his fist connected. Laughing, Abaddon punched upward, hitting his chin and making him stagger backward, seeing stars. Shaking his head and trying to steady himself, he lifted his fists in front of his body to defend himself, but Abaddon landed two stinging punches to his still-healing ribs. Gasping, he fell to his knees.

“You’ve been a thorn in my side for far too long,” Abaddon snarled, stepping forward and raising her fist. Castiel stared up at her, unable to breathe. Just before her fist fell, something grabbed Castiel from behind and his vision went white.

“Get up!” a voice shouted in his ear. Disoriented, he stumbled to his feet and whirling around, finding himself inches way from a pair of green eyes.

“Dean,” he whispered.

“Cas,” Dean said solemnly.

“I thought you quit.”

“Charlie called me. I couldn’t leave you on your own.”

“Thank you.”

“Come on.” Dean stepped back. “We have some bad guys to fight.”

The white force field around them dissolved and the fight reemerged around them. Abaddon was staring at them, glowering. “You too? Well, I suppose I might as well kill both of you.”

She swung, but Dean caught her fist in his hand, using her momentum to swing her off balance. Abaddon looked shocked; clearly no one had been able to do this before. She righted herself and, with a shout, swung again, but Dean ducked under it. Furious, her face almost as red as her hair, she punched, putting her whole body behind it. Like before, Dean caught her fist and shoved her, at the same moment that Castiel flew into the air and kicked from behind.

Abaddon went down, falling hard on her back. Meg was upon her in an instant, kneeling on her stomach and upending a water bottle of some clear liquid onto Abaddon’s face.

“Wha—” Abaddon spluttered, spitting the liquid out and shaking it from her eyes. “What the hell was that?”

Crowley appeared, a silver knife in his hand. He knelt beside Abaddon, who hissed and struggled to move. Meg’s weight seemed enough to hold her down, though, and Crowley smirked. “That, darling, was anti-Gift. Does exactly what the bottle says.”

“What are you talking about?” Abaddon demanded, eyeing the knife in Crowley’s hand.

“It means you’re no longer invulnerable,” Crowley growled. “Which means I can do this.”

“NO!” Castiel and Abaddon shouted at the same time as Crowley’s knife came down. Instead of shattering against her skin, it sank deep into her chest. Abaddon stared down at it in shock as dark blood bubbled up around it.

Diving forward, Castiel bowled Crowley over, landing on top of the other man, who wheezed at the sudden weight pressed down on him. Castiel pressed an arm against Crowley’s throat.

“That’s enough!” he shouted. “You’ve done enough killing!”

“Let me go,” Crowley rasped. Even with his voice scratchy and barely audible, his words wormed their way into Castiel’s head. He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes closed.

“Stop it,” he muttered.

“Let me go,” Crowley repeated, more forcefully this time, and Castiel grip weakened despite himself.

“I’m not going to let you go this time,” he said.

Crowley’s eyes bored into his. “Let. Me. Go.”

Unable to stop himself, Castiel started to lift his arm away from Crowley’s throat. A smirk crossed Crowley’s lips.

Then a foot appeared out of nowhere, connecting with the side of Crowley’s head and knocking him out cold. Castiel looked up to see Dean scowling at Crowley’s prone body.

“I’ve had enough of him bossing us around.”

Castiel climbed to his feet. The street had gone suddenly quiet as both sides looked at their fallen leaders. Abaddon lay pale and still in a pool of blood, Meg standing over her. Castiel met her eyes, but she looked away, acknowledging defeat.

“Drop the weapons!” a voice shouted through a megaphone. Everyone turned to see a large group of police gathered at the end of the street, guns trained on them. Jody was among them, the only one not in uniform.

There was a clatter as guns fell to the ground and hands were lifted into the air. The police moved forward, but there was no fight left in the criminals.

Castiel knelt and undid Crowley’s tie, stuffing it unceremoniously into his mouth. As two police officers started to haul Crowley to his feet, he began to wake up, and Castiel said, “Don’t let him speak to you.”

The criminals were rounded up and handcuffed, many with the special cuffs that Castiel had seen that could withstand even Gifted strength. A few of the officers eyed Dean and Castiel, and Dean moved forward to touch Castiel’s elbow.

“Cas, they might come for us.”

“We should leave.” Castiel looked for Jody, who caught his eye and nodded. _Go_ , she mouthed.

Without another word, Castiel grabbed ahold of Dean and took off into the air. A few shouts arose from below, but nobody started in pursuit. Holding Dean closely, Castiel streaked over the buildings, far away from the scene of the fight.


	15. Chapter 15

The sun was beginning to set over the city, staining the sky with streaks of pink and gold. On a rooftop far from the fight, Castiel landed, letting go of Dean and taking a few self-conscious steps away. Now that the fight was over, he was becoming aware of his injuries. His ribs ached; he suspected he had cracked them again. He had a number of new bruises, and his stomach pinched in on itself; he hadn’t eaten in almost a full day.

“Are you alright?” Dean asked, stepping toward him in concern.

“Yes,” Castiel said. “Just my ribs. I’ll be fine.”

“Good.” Dean nodded. They made eye contact briefly, then both quickly looked away.

“So,” Castiel said.

“So,” Dean repeated. Then a grin broke across his face. “We did it, Cas. We really did it.”

Castiel found himself grinning and Dean threw his arms around him. “Ow. Dean, ribs. Ow.”

“Sorry,” Dean muttered, pulling away. He didn’t back away far, though, instead resting his hands on Castiel’s face. Castiel felt a flutter in his stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. “It really is you, then,” Dean said quietly. “Last night felt like something out of a dream, and later I thought maybe I was just imagining it all. You know, wishful thinking. But it really is you.”

Castiel nodded. “It’s really me.”

Dean sighed and leaned forward until his forehead rested against Castiel’s. “When Charlie told me that your mother had taken you, I was so worried. I thought somehow it was my fault, maybe. Because of…what I said last night. You know.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Castiel said, lifting his hands to cover Dean’s. “It was mine. I was careless.”

“I thought I would never see you again,” Dean whispered, closing his eyes.

“I’m here now,” Castiel murmured.

“And…” Dean’s brow furrowed and he looked at Castiel uncertainly. “Are you staying?”

The smile on Castiel’s face widened. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Dean exhaled slowly and nodded, moving away and letting go of Castiel’s face. Castiel immediately missed the warmth of his hands.

“I’m sorry for what I said last night,” Dean said, stepping away and looking down at his shoes. “I shouldn’t have left you like that. I just felt like it was too much, you know? I didn’t think I could take it much longer. Especially with you.” He dragged his eyes up to Castiel’s face. “I knew who you were. And I knew I was going to mess it all up somehow. So for some reason I thought the best thing to do was to stop altogether.”

“I understand,” Castiel said. “And I can’t blame you. This isn’t an easy job.”

Dean nodded slowly, looking down again.

“So is this it?” Castiel asked. “You’re hanging up your mask for good?”

“Dunno,” Dean shrugged. “There won’t be much to do now with Crowley and Abaddon out of the way, will there?”

“I’m sure we could find ways to keep ourselves busy.” Castiel stepped forward and took Dean’s hands in his own. “Thank you for coming today. You probably saved my life.”

“That’s what we do isn’t it?” Dean squeezed his hands back. “Save each other’s asses.”

Castiel smiled. “That’s right.”

For a few moments, they just smiled at each other. Then Dean flushed and looked down.

“So what happened with your mother? Charlie said they were going to get you back.”

“Right,” Castiel said. It felt like years ago that he had stood up to Naomi and walked out of his house. “She won’t be a problem anymore.”

A horrified look crossed Dean’s face. “Oh my God, did you kill her?”

“No!” Castiel exclaimed. “Who do you think I am?”

“Oh, that’s a relief,” Dean sighed. “For a second there I was worried I was in love with a murderer.”

Castiel froze. “What did you say?”

Dean’s face turned bright red and he quickly let go of Castiel’s hands. “Shit. Oh God, Cas, that totally just slipped out, I’m so sorry.”

A smile crept across Castiel’s face. “You’re…in love with me?”

Avoiding Castiel’s eyes, Dean shrugged and scratched his shoulder. “Well, I mean, technically yes, but…I don’t want to freak you out or anything. If – if you don’t – if you’re not—”

“Dean,” Castiel said, stepping forward and lifting Dean’s chin with his hand so he could look him in the eyes. “I love you too.”

“You…” Dean blinked quickly. “You do?”

“Yes.”

“Then…” Dean inhaled slowly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Can I kiss you?”

Castiel smiled. “Please do.”

Dean leaned forward, closing the distance between them and kissing him firmly on the lips. Castiel took Dean’s face between his hands and kissed him back, feeling as if his entire body was filling with light.

When Dean pulled away, he was blushing again. “Okay. That’s was…” He cleared his throat. “That was very nice.”

“Agreed,” Castiel murmured. “It’s a good thing you’re in love with me, right?”

“Right.” Dean knocked his forehead against Castiel’s almost playfully. “And you’re in love with me.”

Dean was grinning so broadly that Castiel couldn’t help but smile as well. He closed his eyes and hummed. “So we saved the city. What now?”

“Whatever we want,” Dean said.

“I like the sound of that,” Castiel sighed. Then, grinning, he seized Dean around the middle and launched off the rooftop into the air, making Dean shout in surprise and cling to him with a crushing grip. They shot upward until the roof they had been standing on was nothing but a tiny dot.

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean gasped, his eyes wide. “You gotta…warn me!”

“What are you gonna do about it?” Castiel asked teasingly.

Dean rolled his eyes and let out a shaky laugh. “This.” He pressed their lips together and Castiel held him tighter, closing his eyes and smiling against Dean’s mouth. Below them, the city moved along with the thousands of lives it contained, unaware of the two shapes floating high above them, lost in each other, surrounded by the golden sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading all the way to the end! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! :)


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